


Down The River Styx

by Ahhuya



Series: White Ghost [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Everyone Has Issues, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gladiator Shiro (Voltron), M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Keith/Lotor (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-12 21:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15349179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahhuya/pseuds/Ahhuya
Summary: After decafeebs of working at Central Command and drifting through space, Keith stumbles upon a new Galra outpost with a very specific type of entertainment. Judging he’s far away from his haunting past, Keith starts a personal mission. It’s knowledge or death on a specific Champion.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After 9 months, it's finally here! This is my entry for the [Keith MiniBang](http://keithminibang.tumblr.com/), which is also the first bang I ever joined for this fandom. It was a lot of fun and I'm grateful to everyone who helped support me with this. And of course thanks to my lovely artists [Konah](http://konaharts.tumblr.com/) and [Marin](http://Little-lucky-angel.tumblr.com/) for wanting to work with me and help correct the worst mistakes in the fic. Their art will be added to the other chapters :D
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy this rollercoaster. I'll be uploading 2-3 chapters every day to make sure it's all online before the final deadline!

Keith has a short list of things to do and already he's frustrated he's unable to do the easiest thing on it: breathe. He doesn't understand. He wishes he can blame the planet's poor atmosphere or his alien biology, but he can't. There is no one to strangle the air out of his lunges. If anything, he's alone, only the paranoia that has made itself his friend here to accompany him. It is only a solo mission and an easy one on top of that. Check out the place for anything useful. A mission that isn't supposed to bring anything new. Keith knows that. He knows that the mission is just for show, to make sure he has something to do in the time he has no place to go back to. He knows that in his current position, he isn’t worth much to the blade. He can’t return to their home base and even if he’s on leave from the Empire, Haggar can call for him any moment.

He shakes his head. The Empire is far away, too far to get its grip back on him. The mission was set up so that he wouldn’t need to worry about that. Collect intelligence, see how the edges of the Empire are faring, it’s not that hard. Judging by the environment so far, the planet is as empty as the original intel has told him. Ignoring the amount of plants that circle around him like a jungle, there is no sign of life. Yet his instincts tell him otherwise. There is no way a planet like this would be uninhabited, the planet is much too filled with vegetation for that. It might be a primitive planet, Keith can’t deny that, but there is an amount of quintessence that even Haggar would be jealous of.

No. He needs to stop thinking about Haggar. He grabs his scanner and tries to run a quick scan of the area. No results. There is an interference that the Blade’s scanners can’t work around. Doesn’t matter, there is nothing anyways. His paranoia is only playing games with him, as it always is.

The plants start to grow thinner as Keith feels himself walk up a hill. He must be reaching the end of the forest, getting a better opportunity for a good scan and a view of the planet. But by the time he reaches the top of the hill, his breath halts in his throat.

“Kolivan?” Keith whispers as he’s able to look over the planet’s surface, “I think our intel has expired.”

**…**

Curse the paranoia for knowing better. The information about the planet being abandoned was wrong. Keith walks through small alleys of what seems to be a space market. It almost seems to be an ordinary swap moon, if it wasn’t filled with Galra soldiers everywhere. No, it can’t be a simple swap moon. Judging by the amount of Galra that walk around and the number of small fighter jets that are stationed around the area, and larger ships stopping by every few vargas, there is more to this place. Keith doesn’t hesitate one moment. His pod is still parked nearby, away from any radars, surrounded by the parts of the forest that interfere with the normal radar. In a hurry he returns and finds himself standing in front of a crate he wishes he wouldn’t have to open yet. There are two sets of armor lying inside. One a dark blue with the orange star of the royal guard on it, the other a plain, gray, soldier armor. He gives the blue one a quick look before he grabs the other set. Wearing his old uniform will only catch more attention, and attention is exactly what Keith isn’t looking for. The normal armor will do. He hates the idea of being viewed as a normal soldier, but it’s the best disguise he has. Walking into Galra territory with his blade uniform is suicide and even if he has watched many members lose their lives, Keith doesn’t want to join them yet.

It feels strange being covered in armor again after feebs of being out of the Galran lines. Even then he isn’t used to the sight of gray on him. Purple or dark blue, those are his colors. Or perhaps red if he has the choice. He likes the contrast those colors form with his white hair. With the gray it only blends in. Maybe it’s for the best. He knows he already stood out too much in his first position in the empire.  Maybe he can work his way to a commander’s black armor one day, but for now, it’s the best to keep the gray one.

The plus side on wearing armor again is that no one will look at him. Sure, they might give him a foul look, but at these outskirts of the empire, Keith is sure that no one will immediately recognize him. He lets his fingers run over the cold metal helmet. He looks at it before he decides he doesn’t need to wear it. This planet isn’t a warzone and even the Galra won’t wear their full armor if there is no need for it.

He sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair. On the back he can feel a braid Thace made for him the last time he was on Central Command, right after Haggar had officially dismissed him. A braid was the only thing he could be given as a farewell gift. Despite having his blade and the Blade’s attire, the braid is one of the thing he cherishes most. It pains him as he undoes it. Strand by strand the braid falls apart, leaving him with a mullet instead. He doesn’t want to think about the last time he had his hair like this, before leaving Central Command, when everything was still supposed to be fine.

**…**

Perhaps he should have wished for the planet to be more of a military base. When Keith is back under the people, he notices they stare at him. All Galra bases are the same. He can’t go anywhere without being an outcast, he knows that already. It’s Central Command all over again, except that he doesn’t plan on joining the ranks here. He’s around for the Blade, here only to gather intel. Maybe ‘ _the planet is a Galra base_ ’ is enough intel for now, but whatever Keith can manage to gather, is an extra step closer to a potential victory.

He starts by figuring out what is being sold in the many alleys. While most people are Galra settlers, Keith is certain he spots a few Unulu between them. Just the fact that the Galra vendors seem to have found a good spot to live makes Keith laugh. After so many decafeebs of watching Galra soldiers everywhere through space, seeing some of them on a planet is quite a different view. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised though. It’s still an occupation by an enemy force. Galra settle wherever Central Command wants them to be, hoarding resources that are needed within the empire. Yet for all those people applies that they never enjoy living there. Galra have no home planet, their hearts will always be calling out to space.  Keith is no different. The Blades have their base, but a giant asteroid surrounded by a sun and two black holes doesn’t really scream ‘home’. It’s a good place to stay when needed, but it has no more comfort than an imperial ship in deep space. He makes a quick note not to let Kolivan know about that, not after the decafeebs the leader spent on having Keith be a part of the pack. He has no true home, not after spending time too much time traveling around the empire. It’s not Kolivan’s fault, or any of the Blades’ fault, Keith knows it’s his own problem.  Perhaps he’s better off with being unable to return to the base. Perhaps space calls him as much as it does to any Galra. That much his heritage has left on him.

He realizes he has no time to be lost in his thoughts this much. Even if he blends in, he’s still inside an enemy base. While the stands sell nothing special, there seems to be something off with base. There are more people than on an average quintessence station, and knowing Zarkon’s love for those, they have quite the employment rate. Military wise, this base seems to be nothing. A few fighter jets, a cruiser from time to time, but nothing too special. Half of the people don’t even seem to be stationed here to begin with. So why do so many people visit?

The answer comes in the form of a group of soldiers moving in one direction with Keith walking right behind them. The crowd leads him to a bigger building in the center of the settlement. Keith needs one look to figure out where he’s going: an arena.

 In front of the entrance, a soldier waits, looking at everyone who enters the arena.

“I’ve never seen you around here.” The Galra says when Keith is the next in line.

“I’m traveling from Central Command.” Keith answers, glaring at the taller male in front of him. He has no time for this nor does he have the motivation to stop himself from causing a scene.

“Central Command, huh?” The male tilts his head, “That witch was here not too long ago and she already wants someone to check up?”

The witch? Keith lets his thoughts run for a moment, “I am not here under Haggar’s orders. I am here on my own will, get some time away from the chaos.”

“Well,” The Galra leans against the doorpost as he tries to suppress what Keith thinks is laughter, “You chose the perfect day to come here. Today’s show is set to be a great one.”

The show… Keith knows what to expect from that. No matter how many games he has watched, he can’t get himself to enjoy them. Entertainment in the empire is filled with as much violence as their everyday work. Surely the Blade has no better entertainment, if Keith can even find anything that falls under said category, but at least they won’t watch a staged fight between slaves for fun.

He tries to shake the disgusting feeling off and walks past the guard who only watches him with a grin on his face. He has to know what is going on on the planet. He assures himself he will be able to watch one set of fights without  losing face. 

The arena is small compared to the one he is used to from Central Command, but judging that this base is still in its early stages of development, the arena almost seems too big. Unless more ships from surrounding stations decide to watch the games as well, there is no way the stands can be filled. Yet the amount of people comes as a surprise to him. The first few fights, almost no one is watching. They’re quick and boring battles, prisoners against giant beasts, unfair from the start. Keith wants to leave the moment the stands start to fill. Hundreds, maybe thousands of soldiers enter the arena. They seem excited and that is enough for Keith to stay seated. Something is going to happen and Keith desperately wants to know what it is that drags so many people to such an abandoned base.

For the first time that day, it is the monster that enters the ring first. Sentries do their best to keep the beast under control, one or two getting smashed in the progress. The creature is of a race Keith hasn’t seen before, but judging by the giant tail, horns and claws that it possesses, he knows it is one of the better arena monsters.  Whoever is meant to fight it has to be of just a strong position. After all, there is no fun in watching a game without some action. The Galra are cruel enough to be bored by a quick death.

The other side of the arena opens up, showing the stronger competitor of the day. The crowd cheers as someone steps into the ring. He’s small, much smaller than the average Galra. On top of that, he’s unarmed. Keith raises an eyebrow. For someone who gets cheered so much, this fight seems to be quite unfair.

“This seems quite the disadvantage.” Keith mumbles.

“Well sure.” Keith looks aside to face one of the soldiers that sat down next to him. “The Champion is able to defeat anyone, but he gives the best shows.”

The Champion? Keith looks back at the arena ground. He remembers watching Myzax fighting before, but unless Haggar had a little too much fun with him, neither of these gladiators resemble Myzax. Although Keith can’t see Myzax losing to either of the present fighters, Keith settles with the idea that the monster might have been able to take the Champion out in a lucky strike.

But the moment he sees the smaller male turn, he realizes he has seen the wrong person for the Champion. A shining, metal arm greets him, one that screams Haggar all over it. The moment the arm glows purple, Keith knows what will happen. There is a dance between the two fighters. The Champion moves around quickly while the beast tries to rely on its raw power. Keith has the admit that it is quite the show. It’s nothing like he has watched before and this unknown Champion can easily work himself to favors of the empire. That is, if he hasn’t done so already. There is something about the man that catches Keith’s attention.

When the opposing gladiator falls to the ground, blood coloring the arena a dark red, everyone cheers. Chants of ‘Champion!’ echo across the walls. Keith can’t cheer like them, but he can’t hold his curiosity to himself either. The Champion doesn’t move, eyes locked on to lifeless form of his enemy. It isn’t until sentries come in to get him, that he moves. In that short moment, Keith gets to see his face. There is no happiness, no pride in victory. The only thing Keith can see is fear… fear and regret. This man is no Galra and definitely not ready to be in their ranks. The Champion tries to resist his capture, but with the adrenaline of the fight leaving his system, he’s soon nothing more than a normal captive.

He is no more than a prisoner and yet Keith can’t stop his growing interest in him. By the time he’s out of the arena, he blames the presence of Haggar’s technology for it.

Once he’s away from the smell of death from the arena and he has moved far enough from the other soldiers to stop hearing their cheers, he calls back to the Blade.

“Kolivan” Keith waits a moment for his leader to pick up, knowing that the answer should come soon enough.

“What is it?” Comes the reply.

“How fast do you think you can have me transferred to this base on Veatis?”

There is a silence on the other side and Keith knows that Kolivan won’t approve his request. “We can’t take any risks, whatever you plan to do, it’s not worth it. It is better to return to a spot at Central Command while that offer still stands.”

“We already have Thace and Ulaz there. You don’t need me. Plus, it wouldn’t do any good to have me near Haggar so soon, I bet I don’t have the best reputation around Central Command. So… how fast?” Keith asks again, the tone in his voice more demanding.

Kolivan sighs, “Seeing that you left a clean sheet when you left your last position and Thace still being on good terms with the higher officers there, it should take no more than a few quintents.”

Keith nods to himself, that is fast enough to assure himself that Kolivan is taking this as serious as he is. “I’ll hide the ship and wait for Thace’s transfer papers.”


	2. Chapter 2

Keith makes a mental note to thank Thace the moment he finishes his job on the base. Three quintents is without doubt  a new record in getting transfers through Central Command. Perhaps those guys are glad to have Keith back on a post again. Keith knows he’s not the most liked Galra around the ship. Like this, at least his old friends, if they ever got close enough to call each other “friends” or acquaintances, don’t have to deal with him. He keeps belonging to the empire, even if he’s far away from Zarkon and those in power. Still, Keith has seen Haggar’s own enemies take longer to get a new post.

Veatis holds no valuable resources that Keith can see. The empire has no need for the widespread forests ignoring the few time they’re cut down in an attempt to scare away any present locals. But except for that, it seems the entire base runs on the popularity of the arena and its surrounding market.

It is because of that that Keith isn’t surprised his new position brings him to the depths of the arena grounds, keeping watch on the groups of gladiators. He doesn’t mind, if anything, he’s glad Thace brought him this close to his original goal. Being in charge of the docking stations would be more favorable for the Blades, but Keith couldn’t care less about those. They have enough people on quintessence routes and trade centers, but getting close to one of Haggar’s toys? That’s an opportunity left only for those at Central Command and neither Ulaz or Thace have made a report about that.

Returning to a base is strange. Soldiers walk around the place, but most of the time, Keith finds himself facing a sentry instead. There is no need to keep valuable troops in a position like this. The living soldiers are mostly newbies that would still shove most work onto their lifeless colleagues when possible. What sentries can deal with, sentries should work on. Keith doesn’t mind. The less social interaction he has with other Galra, the better. Sadly, being ‘the new guy’ doesn’t allow that as much as he wishes. He finds himself paired with a guy named Treflok, a younger lieutenant on the base and someone Keith soon enough realizes isn’t in the best mood most of the time. His first day starts with a grumpy lecture about the beauty of Veatis and her system, something Keith isn’t sure about are the lieutenant’s true feelings. Despite that, Keith learns a few things. First of all, the base is a few decafeebs old, but hasn’t been anything more than an outpost until the arrival of the arena a few feebs ago. That immediately leads to the second point. The arena is here only because of Haggar’s request, who created a new place to store and train her “pet”.  Point three, which Keith guesses is still part of point two, brings the fact that Haggar visits the base from time to time to keep an eye on everything.  Point three is most definitely the one Keith wishes he hadn’t heard. Point four and five, mostly talking about the position and environment of the planet fly past him. 

While Treflok isn’t his leading commander, Keith sees him more than the actual commander of the base. Judging by the base itself, commander Ugret  is far from Zarkon’s occasional courtesy, being given the position as there was no one better, than the man actually earning his spot. The way the commander only sits back in a central station, closer to the docking ships than the arena, makes that much clear. Ugret is the leader, but Keith does best by reporting back to Treflok as he holds more power in his own work space.

Keith sighs as he walks through the halls surrounded by cellblocks. Arenas are never fun places and being in the darkest parts of it is worse. Most cells have an opening in the higher parts of the door, giving the opportunity to keep an eye on those inside. But most importantly, the prisoners use them as a way to know what is going on outside. Besides feeding times, there are shifts of walking through the hallways to keep everything under control. They can be timed easily, creating a moment of stability between the uncertain vargas that make up the quintents. Treflok shows him around during feeding time, laughing as he kicks against metal doors and yells at those standing too close behind them. The food gets thrown on the floor with slight force, green goo spreading across the floor every time.

One door however, Keith realizes is different. There is no small window and the surface glows a soft purple.

“Don’t touch that barehanded.” Treflok says, pulling Keith away from it. He takes a handful of goo and throws the substance against the door Before it can attach itself to the metal, the goo burns, turns black and lands on the floor in pieces of ash.

“A force field?” Keith asks as he looks at the pile that probably is just as edible as the actual goo now.

Treflok nods and moves over to bring up a control panel on the side of the door. “Champion’s holding cell. If you don’t have the force field on, he’ll burn his way through the door and that’s trouble none of us want here.”

He types in a code and places his hand on a scanner. Slowly the purple overlay vanishes and the door opens. The cell is smaller than the others Keith has been able to lay an eye on, but it’s also emptier. The Champion is alone, sitting on the floor in a corner, eyes drifting to the guards as they enter the room. The place smells of blood, blood Keith isn’t sure is the Champion’s or some killed prey’s. For once Keith is glad he wears his helmet, knowing that the beast can’t see the disgust flickering in his eyes.

“Dinnertime!” Treflok drops the bowl of goo on the floor, but the Champion doesn’t look at it. Instead, his eyes are on the part of the ground where there is nothing in his line of sight.

Treflok turns to Keith for a moment and grins, “As you can see, he’s pretty worthless at times like these. With that clamp on his arm, you wouldn’t even think Haggar likes him that much.”

The name Haggar seems to get a reaction of the man on the floor. It’s a quick glare, but it’s noticeable enough. Then he looks back at the floor again, zoning out, back into his own world inside his mind. Keith can see the clamp on the man’s right arm. The devices blinks with a slow, blue light. The color of it doesn’t match with the rest of the cell and the Champion’s appearance, but it’s doing its work. Keith hates to find out what would happen if the clamp wasn’t showing that blue light. Then again, there is no need to think about any outcomes, they’re all bad.

 “You can stop playing games, you’re a beast, aren’t you?” Keith  says as he watches the Champion on the floor, unmoving. The man doesn’t acknowledge Keith’s presence any more than he already did. His focus on the floor seems to be too important. There is no use in trying to get more out of the man, not when Keith is nothing more than a simple soldier making rounds.

“Why isn’t he responding?” He asks, turning the Treflok.

“He’s probably saving his energy. He knows how to respond to the commanders and sentries.” Treflok shrugs.

Keith gives the man one more look before moving on. “Those gladiators are all the same, aren’t they?”

“Oh yes, they all plot our deaths in their time alone. Makes you hope there won’t be a prison break or this entire base is as gone as Daibazaal.” The lieutenant laughs.

A prison break doesn’t sound that bad.  Unless the Champion has been broken far enough to stop having hope, a thing Keith doesn’t exclude at the moment, those gladiators would have a big chance of bringing at least a part of the base down.

“You’ll learn eventually that they’re nothing more than animals.” Treflok says as he moves along the cellblock. Getting used to seems to mean that you don’t care about the prisoners, Keith realizes. The lieutenant doesn’t open up the cell if it isn’t necessary. Clearly not all the gladiators are at the same level as the Champion and any grain of respect isn’t meant for them. Treflok doesn’t look at the door as he throws the food inside through the small window. Keith wishes he didn’t look when he heard the sound of a fight coming from behind. Galra prisons are no fun. Enough die down in the dark cells, even more die as they’re sent out to fight in the arena or work in one of the many rotten camps. It’s a thing everyone knows, even those who aren’t involved with the prisoners. Yet the sound of flesh being torn open for something as simple as food, uneatable good even, makes Keith’s heart sink. The empire holds no good and he can’t wait to watch it fall one day, or have his successors within the Blade reach that goal.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Keith sighs as he walks behind Treflok. Perhaps throwing food in the cells without looking is really the best option. He doesn’t have to watch the horrors behind the wall that way. They aren’t necessarily beasts however, they were once normal people, having a family perhaps. Most of them probably hadn’t killed anyone before their planet was taken over.  But war changes people and as much as Keith wants to push his anger on the Galrans following the empire, he has no reason to blame them for following the only leader they know. The only one to blame is Zarkon himself, along with Haggar and her cursed group of druids.

**…**

He sees the Champion again the following morning. It is only for a short time during the morning rounds. The man hasn’t moved from his spot after the last time Keith saw him. He is still positioned in the corner of the room, but his eyes are fixated on the door this time.

“Food.” Keith states as he sets the bowl with a dry, brown goo on the ground. The Champion doesn’t move. ‘ _Good’_ Keith thinks, knowing exactly what a hungry animal is capable of. “You are supposed to fight in a few hours.” He turns around to leave the cell. “Make sure you give a good show so your dinner might actually be tasty.”

The moment the door closes, he hears the bowl scratch across the floor. By the time he’s done with the surrounding prisons, he hears the bowl collide with the wall.

**\---**

They meet again sooner than Keith hoped. The report that runs through the base is clear: two sentries, meant to escort the Champion to the arena, were taken out, the doors of the cell luckily closing before he could escape.

Keith curses his luck as he stands before the locked door. The task is simple: open the door, get the Champion and keep him busy until there are new sentries to bring him to the waiting crowd in the arena. If he already has the thrill of killing running through his veins, he will surely bring a spectacle. 

Simple tasks, however, are never easy to execute. Keith realized that the moment he set foot on the planet. Opening the door, that is a simple task. Removing the force of an animal on top of him, trying to burn through his throat with a weapon given to him by the worst druid the empire knows… that is far from a simple task. 

“Who let him keep that thing activated?” Keith grunts as his hand grabs the metal one threatening to kill him on the spot. There is no question as to who activated the arm, it’s a case of the original clamp breaking and falling off in response.

The arm is hot, the close contact to his skin making Keith’s fur want to run away. Treflok already warned him for the ability of melting doors and his fur is a lot more vulnerable than an iron prison door.

Keith has to think fast. The Champion has a good hold on him, his muscles helping him in keeping Keith down, but that should also be his downfall. Even if the man has an advantage in agility of most Galrans, Keith knows he’s faster because of his size. He’s not pure Galra to begin with and with an enemy focused purely on escaping, he might have a chance to break free. The prosthetic that is hovering above him moves, the grip of the left hand on Keith’s shoulder wavers slightly as he tries to make a killing strike. Keith wriggles, kicks at the Champion’s stomach and turns away from the burning hand trying to kill him. The floor  is less lucky than he is, melting at the exact moment of impact, only a little away from his head.

His agility might be fine, but the heavy armor slows him down too much. Before he knows it, he’s pinned down by the Champion once again, the force bringing him down to the ground enough to have his helmet roll across the floor. The heat of the prosthetic is dangerously close again and shows that this time, there is no escape. The purple glow reflects in the side of his eye, his hair standing up right with the fear of being burned away.

There is a sound of footsteps, some sentry, some soldier, behind him. That reminds him that the door never closed behind him. The Champion has a way to escape unless the door gets shut down again.

“Close that door!” Keith yells. There is chatter that goes unheard to him, the buzzing of the Champion’s arm too dominant to block out. There is one loud thud and with it, the earlier present light fades from the room, replaced by a purple glow instead.

“ _Stupid_ ” Keith mutters between his breath as he watches his death come closer.

Weirdly enough, death doesn’t take him. Instead it stay lingering above him, frozen. The expression on the Champion’s face shows confusion, his eyes showing light for the first time Keith has seen him.

“ _What?_ ” The man mutters in a language Keith doesn’t pay attention to.  He has no time to think about it. With a quick kick he throws the Champion off him and his body falls on the floor without resistance. In front of the door lays a new clamp and Keith rushes of to grab the thing and end the fight.

Keith doesn’t hesitate, taking the new clamp and putting it around the arm. Its purple glow fades out, the piece turning into useless metal again.

“Save that energy for the arena, you’ll need it.” Keith pants, looking at the defeated form of the Champion. He can’t call the man defeated though. The amount of bloodlust and strength in that short moment show that the Champion is indeed a beast to fear.

 _“Don’t”_  The Champion mutters as he curls into himself on the floor. It is the weakest Keith has seen him, the mighty animal suddenly falling apart in its own façade. 

“So you can talk.” Keith says, but something is wrong. He doesn’t recognize the words the man is  saying. He has no problem with the other prisoners, their screams for mercy echoing everywhere. Yet the Champion can’t be understood. The words flow easily form the man’s mouth, but none make any sense. Keith misses the hard sounds he is used to finding across the ship. No matter how heavy the accent of the Champion would be, Keith has heard enough forms of Galra to know this isn’t that. But before Keith can ask more questions, the door slides open behind him and a new group of sentries enters the room. Grabbing the Champion under his arms, they drag him away. The only thing Keith can hear are those soft murmurs that he can’t make sense of.

The Champion is out of sight quickly when he is no longer able to resist his handlers. Keith sighs as he picks his helmet up from the ground and puts it back on his head before he reunites with is colleagues.

“You didn’t tell me the clamp was deactivated.” Keith hisses at the group.

“Well,” Treflok shrugs his shoulders, “You were able to handle him, right? It was a test to see how well you could handle this base, you passed.” He starts to laugh and the guards standing next to him join in.

“You could have given me a warning about the fact that you didn’t deactivate that arm.” Keith grunts as he strokes the fur on his neck, still glad he walked away without any burns or worse.

“Is the Champion too much for someone from Central Command?” Treflok laughs louder, “I thought you two would click as Haggar’s pets.”

Keith glares at him, takes a deep breath and turns around. “I am not Haggar’s pet.”

“Of course, she would never sent her pets to such a place, would she?” He knows there’s sarcasm there. The Champion is a favored pet without doubt. Keith on the other hand… well he is lying if he doesn’t have a slight favor of Haggar’s.


	3. Chapter 3

Seeing the next quintent approach is a blessing Keith finally learns to appreciate. Dragging himself out of bed is much harder when the initial relief of being alive has passed. The fur on his head still stands up in fear and his muscles ache from a defensive posture he didn’t realize he had been holding. 

He has a few dobashes left before he’s supposed to feed the Champion, but Keith decides to skip out on it. The man should be used to missing food and if no one takes up the job, then Keith decides to call it a punishment for bad behavior. The other prisoners can wait, there is no tight schedule for throwing food through a window. It’s a habit he wishes he didn’t take from Treflok, but there is no helping it. Keith can’t make himself fase those who are left to rot, nor does he want them to know him. A helmet can only hide so much of his identity.

He sighs as he drags himself to the dining hall. The building is located near the hangars. Whether it’s on purpose or not, it’s a clear disadvantage to those working at the arena. It’s a small walk from his room next to the arena to the common building. The market is being build up again, the present Unulu trying to lure in their first customers before the light of a near star can fully illuminate the planet.

When Keith has shrugged an older Unulu trying to sell him some sort of hair dye, off, he finds himself in the presence of his fellow Galra again. The goo served in the cafeteria isn’t much better than what the prisoners are served, but it’s more and nutritious. Keith wishes he could eat wearing his helmet, wanting to hide far away from the stares of the other soldiers.

“Did you watch the game last quintent?” Keith looks up to see a female guard sit in front of him. Something tells him he should know her from somewhere, but it doesn’t immediately come to him from _where_.

He shakes his head, “I had other things to do.”

“You were the one that got attacked, right?” She laughs, “I’m pretty sure the lieutenant decided to tell the entire base about it.” Colleague in the arena it is.

“It was a test, nothing important.”

“That is what he says, but I know it’s a lie.” She leans over the table, strands of long fur falling over her eyes, showing only parts of her bright yellow eyes. “It’s not a lie that there was a test, everyone has to deal with that.” She sighs and blows one of the longer strands of hair out of face. “What I mean is that the Champion isn’t allowed to be used for these tests.”

“He’s just a prisoner, isn’t he? Why wouldn’t we be able to use him?”

The girl points to the ceiling and grins, “Order from the high priestess. We’re lucky we’re allowed to use him in our games, but we can’t have anything happen to him. If she were to find out that we would use him in our newcomer’s test, we’d be in trouble.”

“So he uses him on the one person with a close connection to Haggar?” Keith asks.

“He also knows you have no say on this base. You’re a low-class soldier. No matter what your status used to be, you still answer to lieutenant Treflok and commander Ugret here.”

Keith frowns “Why would you tell me this if you know I can’t do anything here?”

The guard laughs and stands up from the table. “If you had seen the Champion compete last quintent you’d know something was off. It was only after he met you. You should stay away from him if your presence is going to hurt him. We can’t afford losing him or Haggar’s trust.”

“So what do you want to say with that? Stay away from the Champion?” Keith asks, frowning. He hates that he already ruined his chances near the gladiator this fast.

“If it’s up to Treflok, you’ll probably be made into the Champion’s sole caretaker. So that if something goes wrong, he can blame you and throw you off the base before the end of this movement.”

“Doesn’t the commander have a say in this?”

“He only cares about pleasing Zarkon. If Treflok shows that kicking you off the base will please the emperor, he’ll let him do what he wants.”

“I haven’t even been here for more than a few quintents. What has gotten me on Treflok’s bad side so fast?” Keith frowns.

“Treflok doesn’t like Central Command and he sure doesn’t like halfbreeds.”  She walks away with that, leaving Keith alone at the table. A  sigh escapes his lips. He knows he should have seen it coming. Galra don’t like halfbreeds, not within their own ranks at least. It was a recurring problem and the reason no one would send a halfbreed on an infiltration mission.

Keith no longer feels hungry or in need of a break. A few quintents and his commanding officers already dislike him. He sighs. He hasn’t even been able to mess something up, but here he is in the worst position he could get himself in. A mission requires utmost care, being in a weak position adds extra difficulty to it. It’s a challenge, Keith realizes. The Galra should be glad he isn’t afraid of those.

**…**

Despite the initial warning, an invitation to the commander’s office comes much as a surprise. Less of a surprise is the sight of Treflok next to the commander’s chair. Both only look at him and there’s a tension to wait who talks first. Keith decides it isn’t up to him to start, not in his current rank against two commanding officers. Relief comes over him when Ugret is the first to open his mouth.

“Do you have any idea why I called you here?”

Keith shakes his head. “Did I do anything wrong?” _Did I bring permanent damage on your only reason of existence?_ The answer sticks in the back of his head, but playing dumb is the best way to go.

“I heard there was an incident with prisoner 117-9875 last quintent.”

Keith nods. “He broke out of his restraints while being prepared to be moved to the ring.”

“That is what the reports say, you can confirm, right? Lieutenant?”

Treflok gives a solid nod. Well, that’s one thing Keith hadn’t expected. “The Champion broke free and destroyed two sentries. However, after his encounter with our new recruit, he almost lost his own life in the match.”

Ugret nods. “Indeed that is a thing we can’t have happening here.”

“Wait,” Keith interferes, immediately regretting his decision when the other two Galra look at him, “Is one prisoner really worth more than the safety of our own base?”

“The safety of the Champion _is_ the safety of the base.” Treflok growls.

“The lieutentant is right.” Ugret adds, “The Champion was entrusted to us by high priestess Haggar. You as a former soldier of the Central Command should know that we have no other option than to keep her happy if we wish to be a good support to emperor Zarkon’s ideal.”

“Does that mean you want to take me away from the prisoner care?” Anything would be fine if it means he can stay on the planet, far away from Central Command.

“I will be honest I thought about giving you a new position on the airship station, but something weird happened with the Champion.” The commander sighs and eyes at Treflok.

Keith feels his breath stop in the middle of his throat. He has made a big mistake, permanent damage to a precious specimen and he’s able to get full blame.

“You’re getting a promotion, if that is what we can call it.” Keith is sure the breath he’s been holding is officially lost now.

“A promotion, sir?” He asks, sure he has misheard it. It has only been a few quintents and Treflok is smiling too much for the news to be anything positive. But instead the commander nods.

“A promotion. From now on, you are responsible for the full care of prisoner 117-9875. From food to medical care and escort to the ring, you will be there.”

Treflok’s smile makes a lot more sense now. Throw the guy you don’t like in a position with too much responsibility and wait for the beast to grab its prey.

“Thank you, sir.” Keith hold his hand in a fist over his chest. “I will not disappoint you.” A disappointment would be his death either way.

“Better not. Get to work.” Ugret says and leans back in his chair, “Vrepit sa.”

“Vrepit sa.” Keith greets back and leaves the office again.

When the door slides closed again, the news starts to make more sense. The Champion, who tried to kill him only a quintent ago. There is danger in working with one prisoner only. Any mistake, any problem Haggar finds with her pet will be shoved on to him. No previous deals will come to save him. Haggar is merciless, especially when it comes to her own work and experiments. Those who interfere with her know by becoming her experiments themselves and a weapon of the empire is the last thing Keith wishes to become.

It’s a promotion he can’t say no to. He holds no power and without the interference of Central Command, no one will make him leave. Then again, Central Command might trust him enough to offer the position anyways. It’s the curse of being a good soldier.

Keith shakes his head and walks back to his room. He won’t have to face the Champion until the start of the next quintent. Enough time to get his head together. Enough time to see if there is a way out of an involuntary suicide mission.

Before he closes his eyes, he realizes that a solution is nonexistent.

**…**

He takes a deep breath as he finds himself in front of the Champion’s cell again. There is only a single bowl of goo in his hand now that there is one prisoner for him to feed. The purple force field fades from the door, leaving the dark room behind it open for entry. He hasn’t seen the Champion since their “incident”, but assures himself that he won’t be attacked this time.

He is proven right for once. The Champion looks the same as always, sitting down on the floor with his eyes fixed on an empty space in front of him. Keith steps inside and closes the cell door behind him. He wants to take his time in the moment, make sure the Champion notices him. He places the bowl of food on the floor and slides it across to the man.

“You and I will be seeing each other a lot more from now on.” Keith sighs as he leans against the wall. The Champion doesn’t react other than giving him a glare before taking the bowl from the floor, protecting it from any harm. Then he starts eating. Fast, as if he fears that Keith’s presence means the food will be taken from him faster this time.  

“There is no need to eat that fast. You have a few more vargas before you’re needed again.” Keith assures him, but he feels his words being lost in the moment. The only contact he can make with the gladiator is the exchange of glares between them, and Keith wonders if the man lost his ability to talk again. Prisoners tend  to be silent when they’re in the presence of guards, most of them are at least. But not like this, not when a guard is actively talking to them. It feels off, but Keith knows he can’t touch the Champion without being kicked out of the base the moment Haggar decides to show up.

Keith averts his gaze to the wall in front of him instead. “You really aren’t the most talkative guy, are you?” He sighs. “I’m not sure if I should be thankful for this position.” He stops talking to the Champion on the floor, instead feeling himself falling into a personal monologue. “You are the most valuable asset to this base and I never knew we had a new Champion.” He laughs and gives the Champion another look. The bowl of food is laying empty on the floor again. “When you’re like this, you aren’t that hard to take care of, but if you attack me again later, we might both be further away from our original goals.” Did a gladiator have any goals? Keith shrugs at the thought. They probably did, something as ‘being set free’ seems to be a general wish for prisoners. A futile, but sweet wish.

The Champion doesn’t talk, but Keith doesn’t expect an answer back. Instead he walks away from the wall and steps closer to retrieve the bowl of the floor. The Champion looks better up close when he doesn’t try to kill him.

As he grabs the bowl of the floor, something small catches his eye. Something is missing on the Champion’s body suit. Where a small red light should be present is only dark fabric.

The Champion moves away to a corner and Keith realizes he has to get back to his job. Taking the bowl back in his arms, he leaves the cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a chapters I hated to write, but tomorrow will be the fun ones


	4. Chapter 4

Dealing with the Champion isn’t as hard as Keith originally thought it would be. The man saves his energy before his fights and is too exhausted from his own failing adrenaline afterwards. Between fights, Keith can feel the gladiator’s muscles stiffen, his mind on full alert. It’s beautiful in some way. The man who does nothing but zone out on his own, is still an animal in disguise. He’s as dangerous as could be. Every night he is guided back to his cell covered in blood. The medical attention Keith can give him is only minimal. Enough to keep him alive, but never to have his wounds heal well. It doesn’t matter. As long as Keith can stop him from dying, his job and his investigation are safe.

The Champion’s behavior has started to improve however. He looks up when the door to the cell opens and Keith wonders if the stability of having one handler aids to that. His body suit is tattered, ripped open in certain places to show broken and red skin. Creatures of system X-9-Y are weak, but the Champion never fails to fulfill his objective.

“Food.” Keith says as he places a new bowl of goo on the ground. He has given up on trying to tell the Champion when his next fight is coming up. The first times he had to escort the man to the ring, he reacted just like he hadn’t seen it coming. It is a waste of time to tell him if he’s unable to understand. Keith can only watch as the Champion eats, struggling to keep his old wounds from reopening as he tries to get his food finished as soon as possible. It’s a sad sight, but nothing Keith can do something about. When the bowl is empty and back on the floor again, Keith takes his leave.

Taking care of the Champion leaves him with  a bigger amount of free time than a normal prison guard would have. And that is a big advantage when it comes to looking around files. Once he’s back in his room for a quick evening break, he takes out his communicator to the Blade. The device is small and flat, easy to hide in his room or uniform. He looks at the thing before he types out his message.

> [ _†17-41 ¤569 ID-Keith || Do we have any information about the Champion from Ulaz? He might be more important than we originally expected. I have gained almost full access to his actions, but I’m being watched by the superiors here all the time. They’re waiting for me to mess up._ ]

When the encryption has worked its way along the text, the message is sent. He lays the device on his bed and takes his blade from deep underneath the sheets. The luxite shines brightly in the cold purple light of the room. He hates to keep it hidden, being stripped from his only sure identity again. Yet carrying the blade close holds too much of a risk. His armor can only hide so much and chances of a full room inspection seem unlikely at the moment. At least they’re uncommon enough to have the blade be found during one. He stops looking at it when the communicator blinks.

> _[†17-41 ¤570 ID-Kolivan || Information can only be sent if chances of being found out are at a minimum. Do not do anything reckless in the meantime. We can’t afford having to transfer you to a new base again. Or killed, in that matter.]_

_Typical_ , Keith thinks and smiles. Reckless is a big term, but Keith understands what Kolivan wants to say with it. He can’t be found out, but waiting for Ulaz might take too long. He won’t take unnecessary risks, he’s not that stupid. But his definition of a necessary risk might not be appreciated by Kolivan.

**…**

Keith steps into a small lab at the edges of the arena pit. Several tools catch his eye, of which most he wishes they hadn’t. There are syringes, things that look like primitive prosthetics and containers glowing purple with quintessence. They’re all part of some druid’s work, probably a forgotten and abandoned project since there is no druid present on the base. The druid might not be around, but the sheer thought of its influence has Keith’s fur stand up straight.

He doesn’t need the quintessence or the prosthetics. He’ll have to contact Kolivan about it once he has the time, but the objects are of no importance to his personal mission. His eyes scan the room for any mechanics that could aid his goal and spot a blinking light on the edge of a table. The device is no more than a small chip, but it’s more than enough.  He takes a quick look around before he snatches the chip of the table. If someone misses it, he has a good reason to take it. It should benefit him, the Champion and with that the empire, and that is what his jobs entails. 

**…**

He waits until the next morning before he goes to the Champion’s cell with the chip. The morning is more rushed that usual. There is shift in plans and the usual fights are suddenly held earlier to make up for what seems to be an imperial debriefing.

He watches the gladiator eat and turns the small chip between his fingers. There is a chance he’s going to mess everything up again, that approaching the beast will result in anything but a happy ending. Then there’s a loud bang on the door and  Treflok’s voice pierces through the force field as if the barrier behind him doesn’t exist. There is a shift in the schedule again and the Champion is forced to go up within ten dobashes.  Keith sighs and tucks the chip away. He is quick to approach the Champion and grabs his flesh arm. The man doesn’t struggle, seemingly having given up on escape long ago. Despite how sad it is, it’s one of the things Keith is thankful for. He knows there is no way he’ll be able to take the Champion down another time, not when he never found out how he survived the first time.

Accompanied by two sentries he leads the Champion through the dark hallways, every turn closer to the ring filling the space with more screams and the fresh smell of blood.

The entry to the arena isn’t unknown to Keith. He’s led prisoners to their death here before. Even escorting the Champion isn’t special. Except that he has more to do now. He has to stay out of the clear sight of the sentries waiting to take the gladiator into the ring. It is a quick motion. As he moves to remove the clamp on the prosthetic, he places the chip on the side of the Champion’s bodysuit. With a soft push, he guides him into the ring.

“You better not lose now.” He whispers, and when the Champion looks back in surprise, he knows his plan has succeeded.

**…**

He wishes he can call it a “success”, because the end result is far from it. A suddenly surprised Champion fights worse than one that only knows the way of victory or death. That much is clear when Keith finds himself dragging the Champion to the medical wing. The opponent wasn’t worth much, a simple guy from Puig who normally wouldn’t take more than five dobashes to be taken out. Now, Keith was faced with at least fifteen dobashes of fighting and a Champion with a nasty cut on his shoulder. 

In the quick moment between getting the Champion out of the ring and taking him to get whatever medical care he was able to supply, he had removed the chip in the same time as he placed the clamp back on.  Now the Champion is left in the same void of misunderstandings as before and Keith hates it. There isn’t much else to expect however. The cut on the man’s shoulder would already take enough from the gladiator’s attention. The probable exhaustion on top of that makes the man as tame as ever. The beast knows he needs the attention if he wishes to make it through another day.  It’s a feeling Keith is all too familiar with.

The medical wing doesn’t do much for him. A few bandages and a shady antiseptic is all he can gather before the scientists throw the two of them out of the main area. He shouldn’t be surprised about it. A weakened Champion gives more sensation in the ring and bets are sure to become more interesting along the way. In the end the arena is nothing but a business on its own.  People from all over the empire come in to gamble, or to have others take the bets for them. A Champion who doesn’t give a special show or an interesting aspect to every next game makes the bets boring.

Keith shakes his head as he sits the Champion downs in one of the corners of the medical room where no scientist tries to bother them. The man barely makes a noise as Keith cleans out the wound and bandages it. Judging by the scars covering the rest of the man’s body, he has had the same treatment many times before.

After handing the supplies back over to the other Galra, Keith grabs the Champion by his uninjured arm. The trip through the hallways back to the cell feels unnecessary long. There are hisses from the other prison cells, but Keith nor the Champion pay them any mind.

Back in the cell, Keith sets the Champion down near the wall. He takes his helmet off, puts it down on the floor and crouches down near the Champion. Then he takes the chip out again. The device blinks a regular red, as active as it should be. While the Champion tries to evade his touch, Keith uses the disability from the injured shoulder to place the chip back on his neck again. He takes his hand back and leans back, waiting for the Champion to calm down before he decides to speak.

“I’m sorry about that,” Keith says as he tries to force a smile on his face, “but if the others find out you’re able to understand us, I’ll be getting the both of us in only more trouble.”

The Champion doesn’t reply, but his eyes return more light than before. Grey eyes move from the floor to face his yellow ones, shining with both confusion and relief.

“It’s in both of our interest if no one knows what I’m doing for you, but I’m sure we’ll be able to help each other out with what we both try to achieve in here.” Keith says as he stands up from the ground. “I’ll leave the translator on you until I have to get you out in the ring again. No one else should enter here until then.” He looks at the Champion, pitying his broken form. He sighs and turns away, walking to the door to leave the man alone for the night. Keith feels no need to wait for an answer. Even if the translator works, Keith knows he looks everything like a Galra soldier, one of the people who caused all this trouble I the first place.

“Why?” He hears and he turns back to the Champion again, who for the first time, looks him straight in the eye. His voice is hoarse, lost between the switches of utter silence of the cell and the screaming in the arena. “Why did you do that? I could suddenly understand them… I haven’t been able to since…”

“Since you were transferred here from Central Command, am I right?” Keith fills in.

The Champion nods. “A few days after I came here I stopped understanding them.”

“Guessed so,” Keith crosses his arms over his chest, “they never let me get you a new bodysuit, no matter how tattered yours is. They know your translator chip is missing and they enjoy it.”

“So what is in it for you to fix it?”

“Despite the fact that the chance of you attacking me is smaller when you’re able to understand me?” Keith laughs softly.

“Right…” The Champion mutters and his eyes drift back to the floor again, “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Keith says, “You saw a chance to be free and took it.”

There is something like a chuckle in that moment, but it’s soft enough to almost be confused with a louder breath “Except that it was reckless.”

“If that is the most reckless thing you’ve done, you’ll be fine.”  Keith says. He knows recklessness and an attempt to escape the deepest parts of hell he can imagine, is far from reckless.

There is a silence and Keith notices the tired look on the Champion’s face. Keith returns to the door and starts the unlocking sequence. “Rest for now. I’ll be back in the morning with food.” He says as he has the force field fade.

“What is your name, or do you only listen to Champion or prisoner 117-9875?” He asks before he opens the door. He doesn’t expect an answer back. Names are too intimate, too valuable for someone to give away so easily. At least they are within the Blade.

“Shiro,” the Champion sounds, his voice softer than before as if the name leaves him with much pain, “my people always called me Shiro.”

Keith smiles and turns away from the door for a moment. “I’m Keith.”

He doesn’t expect laughter in response, but he can hear it clearly. A soft chuckle leaves the Champion’s lips and Keith frowns.

“What is so funny about that?” He asks.

“Nothing,” Shiro leans back against the wall, “it’s just that it sounds like a name from my home planet. I didn’t think I’d hear something like that ever again.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Keith says, his hand hovering over the control panel, ready to open the door any moment, “it’s short for Keitherak. My dad apparently liked it in combination with my hair color.”

“Does it mean white?” Shiro asks as the door opens and Keith steps outside.

“Ghost.” And with that the door falls shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU, Texas Kogane wasn't able to save Keith from a name like "Yorak". He actually just made it worse when Krolia told him Keith is like the word for ghost and he thought it was cute with the white hair (this was all written before s6 tho, I had no idea about Krolia and Texas)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mom, who always has to listen to my fic ramblings when I come home, needed weeks to understand 'the floor'. But now that I can post this, she won't be alone in it anymore

The job of caretaking is easier when two understand each other. For as far as understanding is concerned in the situation. The Champion, no Shiro, has his own way of getting through the day. Even with their shared communications, the man continues to keep his own habits. The floor is an interesting companion. It doesn’t have any judgements as Shiro tells him. The floor listens, the floor doesn’t tell him he’s a murderer and the floor doesn’t leave him. The floor is a certain factor in his uncertain life. Keith’s floor is his knife, the only consistent thing in his life. Even if the Blade doesn’t always approve with his decisions, the knife he carries doesn’t speak back. He likes to believe it’s his mom’s, that she gave it to him before she disappeared.

Perhaps space is a better option to entrust his feelings to. The vast emptiness can’t judge him the way Kolivan can, but Keith would rather entrust his deepest secrets to Kolivan than to the stars. Within that emptiness is Haggar, even further down is what he wishes he could really escape. Space can’t be trusted with secrets like the floor. Space is a liar, a filthy betrayer who will stab him in the back when he isn’t watching.

Despite the floor being Shiro’s best friend in space, Keith finds himself caught up in a conversation of some kind at certain times. It’s not just the small talk about the arena and when a new fight is coming up, instead they talk about things that don’t matter. Things that no one really cares about, things no guard has any interest in. No guard except for Keith. He listens to Shiro’s talking, either when everything is starting to become too much or when he just needs someone else than the floor to talk to. Keith on the other hand doesn’t find himself initiating a conversation. As much as he wants to know, he has a power position that doesn’t scream ‘confidential’ to a prisoner. Then again, Shiro’s mind isn’t trustworthy for Keith either. One day a druid will come and fish what they need out of the weak brain. So instead, Keith listens and waits. He takes care of the Champion when needed, spending more time inside the small cell than he originally planned.

Yet curiosity can’t be killed and in the end, it’s impossible for Keith to stay silent on his own. When the Champion has finished eating, as quick as always, he sees it as a perfect time to ask his first question in the quintents they’ve been together.

“Tell me about your system.” Keith says as he moves away from the wall where he usually waits and sits down in front of Shiro, “What is X-9-Y like?”

“X-9-Y?” Shiro repeats as he gives Keith a questioning look. “I’ve heard that before, no idea what it means though.” He shrugs his shoulders and sets his bowl of food on the ground, empty.

“Your system, where are you from?” Keith repeats the question.

Shiro laughs softly in response “You know, we never gave our system a name. Humans are quite egocentric, thinking that our system is the only important one, so we just called it ‘the’ Solar System, though it’s located in this thing called the Milky Way.”

“No offense,” Keith says, “but from what I’ve heard, no one ever spent their energy on going to X-9-Y because it was too primitive.”

“Explains why still some people don’t believe in aliens.”

“You really want me to believe that with this gigantic war and the thousands of species caught up in it, your people don’t believe  it’s real.”

“That’s the thing. We never knew there was a war going on. I-” Shiro stops talking for a moment and closes his eyes. The sigh that escapes his lips shows that he has hit a sensitive topic, “I was part of a mission to the edge of our planetary system. Just to collect ice samples, thinking they might have information on extraterrestrial life. That’s when you people found us, guess you can fill in the rest.”

Keith nods. Discovering  a new species isn’t that special to the Galra, but experimenting is something the druids like and nothing is better than to see how much an unknown species can do. An underdeveloped system would not be able to go after their captured people, if such a thing was to be advised in the first place.

“And your planet?” Keith asks, hoping to change the subject to a less painful topic.

“We call it Earth.”

“You like your dirt so much you named your entire planet after it?”

Another laugh, it’s a sound Keith can find himself getting used to, even if he isn’t sure why the other man laughs in situations like these. “We’re pretty bad at naming things. Around 70 percent of the planet is made out of water, but almost every language just calls it ‘earth’.”

“It seems your world is more complex and much more stupid than I thought.” He eyes the door and sighs. Then, he picks up the empty bowl from the floor and stands up again.

“You’ll have to tell me more next time.” Keith says.

“You’re leaving again?”

“You might be my main job, but I still have more responsibilities to my people.” _My people_ he wonders who he means with that. The Galra or the Blade… perhaps it’s both in this situation.

“There is no fight today?” Shiro asks.

“It seems that there was a shipment of new prisoners, they want to test them out before they send you in again. Take that time to rest and heal up. You will need it.”  Keith says and moves to the door. “Since it’s a busy day and you’re not fighting there is probably no dinner for you tonight.” The arena life is hard after all. If you don’t fight for it, you won’t get anything from your captors. That is how reality works and Keith knows that Shiro is used to that by now.

**…**

The rest of the quintent is busy indeed. Despite his special position within the arena, his presence is requested by Treflok to help out with the shipment of new prisoners. The cruiser stays high in orbit as a smaller shuttle sets down at the base. It’s a shipment of thirty prisoners, recently captured judging by their healthy and untainted appearance. The look in their eyes screams only fear. Fear for the unknown and the horror they can feel the planet holding for them. Surely, there have been bigger shipments back at Central Command, but there the average prisoner isn’t expected to last longer than a few vargas. Their lives may be longer on a distance base, but the outcome will be the same. In the end they’re all destined to die. Few of those who realize this try to run away. Once those have been shot down and are officially deemed worthless in their death, the rest has learned that the only way to survive is to obey. Some still try to protest, others cry, but nothing helps.  Treflok’s eyes watch everything. Ugret is on top of things as well, but unlike his lieutenant, he doesn’t interfere. Treflok yells and doesn’t miss an opportunity to point his gun against someone’s head to threaten them. Keith follows his example with reluctance.

“Keep walking.” Keith tells a lost prisoner who tries to take in his surroundings as well as possible. With a gun in his hand, he point the group towards the arena. The sentries that joined them do their best to keep the vendors away from the group. They try, but that doesn’t mean they succeed as well as Keith wants them to. A good annoyed look and the presence of high superiors deals a better blow and Keith wants his job to be over already. He guides the group through the streets, into the hallways of the arena and towards their first holding cell. The room is big, but its size is equal to the amount of uncertainty it holds. Keith leaves the sentries to guard the door while he returns to Treflok’s side.

“Good to see you know how to deal with prisoners still.” Treflok grunts, not deeming Keith worth of one look.

“I am a guard here, it’s my job.” Keith replies.

“You seem to have softened against the Champion however. You don’t want your prisoners to run over you.”

“The Champion only lives inside his own mind. He is still bound before he is brought to the arena. He won’t run over anyone.”

Treflok’s eyes drift down to meet Keith’s. The gaze is judging, silent but deadly. Keith fears that his facade is failing him. But Treflok is back to ignoring him again, the yellow gaze focused on the hall leading to the arena. From down the hall, the sound of cheers echoes from the ring. From behind the door, the prisoners become restless. Their death is waiting for them, no more than a few dobashes away.

“It’s time.” Treflok says and walks down the arena hall. He will be looking at the fighting next to the commander’s side. The judging of prisoners is up to them, the others have to make sure the fighting even starts.

Keith sighs as he opens the door the cell.

“Out!” He orders, as he points with his gun at the terrified group. “Two next to each other, we’re going out.” The sentry helps him and without too much trouble the prisoners follow them down the hall.  Shiro’s hall is further down, the door untouched that entire afternoon. That quintent, twenty prisoners lose their lives in the fight, five of which were deemed useless by the commander and killed in a rushed extra fight. The other ten are survivors, but they don’t truly live. On his way back, Keith passes a familiar face. The girl that called him out on his job the first time. The long strands of fur that cover her face, are noticeable even underneath a helmet. He stops in the hall and looks at her and finds her looking back.

“I swear five of those guys aren’t going to last another quintent.” She says as her head tilts back to cell Keith knows the new prisoners were guided back to. “Champion fights tomorrow, doesn’t he?”

Keith nods. The fighting continues again the following quintent.

The guard sighs and leans her elbow against the wall, “None of them return then.”

“Group fight tomorrow?” He swears he has seen the fight schedule before, but it has slipped his mind for the moment.

She nods. “Champion against a group of ten.”

“They have no chance of winning that.” Not ten inexperienced fighters. Not with what the Champion has already achieved.

“Glad we agree on that. Too bad, there was some potential in this new group. One strong guy, won the entire competition. Ah well,” she shrugs, “he’ll be gone tomorrow.”

Keith wants to reply with a ‘that’s life’ or anything in that direction, but before he can, she is on him and grins.

“As long as you don’t mess up with that Champion of yours, business will continue here. Don’t let Haggar find out what you’re doing with him.”

She’s gone before Keith realizes it. The only thing that reminds him she’s still there is the sound of her humming through the abandoned hallways.

He doesn’t visit Shiro anymore that quintent. He can’t do it.

**…**

When Keith is back in his room, he finds time to come to himself again. With his blade resting in his hands, he thinks. The day only passes his mind in certain stages. The new prisoners are somewhere in the back, shoved away as a thing that happened but has no influence. Treflok is there too, his eyes burnt into Keith’s soul. But more burning is the humming of the Galra girl. The humming that came after her talking, after her warnings had been repeated another time. He sighs as he clutches the knife against his chest and curls in on himself.

“I’m only messing this up again, aren’t I?” He whispers only to himself and the knife. “I can only do so much before I fall back into old habits. Perhaps I should have listened to Kolivan instead, return to the base or go to an outpost to avoid any suspicion. Maybe my place isn’t within the Galra ranks anymore…”

When he finally looks away from the blade, he sees the soft blinking of his communicator next to him. He feels his heart when the encryption shows Thace as the sender.

> [ _†17-45 ¤294 ID-Thace || Haggar is on her way to Veatis, most likely to your base. Whatever she wants there, it might be best for you to stay away from her._ ]


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh I had a perfect uploading schedule with times, but that doesn't work with long days at work... so I guess updates are soon after each other but also not? I can only post them once I get back from work every day :')

 “I’m sorry.” It’s not how Keith wants to start the conversation the next morning, but there is no other option. Shiro only looks at him, waiting for a further explanation on what has happened. Ketih doesn’t even know what he’s sorry for. He _is_ sorry. He knows that much. He’s sorry for the fact that he’s too soft for his own job, that he can’t save anyone, that he’s only making things worse, and most of all, he’s sorry that Haggar is coming.

“The high priestess is coming, you can’t keep the translator anymore.” It’s the shortest explanation Keith can give. As reckless as he may be, this isn’t the time to be taking risks. He doesn’t know how fast Haggar travels, how soon she’ll know about him favoring her pet.

He can see Shiro shivering at the mentioning of the priestess, her marks are still visible on his own self, more obvious than Keith’s.

“When?” Is the only thing Shiro can muster through his fear.

“I don’t have any information on that. I have already helped you too much.” Keith sighs. The reply on Shiro’s face is portrayed in the emptiness on his face, the fear in his eyes that doesn’t even show the same level in the middle of the arena. “Empathy is a weakness, weakness is a disease that spreads through the ranks. ” And diseases are eliminated before they can spread. Those who bring weakness within the empire are sentenced to death in the best case scenario. A quick execution is a dream for a coward, a continued life under the druids is a hell no one wishes to live through. The main ship is filled with more than enough screams and the arena is never the primary source.

“Our relationship here is strictly one of business. I keep you alive and you win fights for the entertainment of the people. We’re nothing more than that.” Except that Shiro is more of a curiosity project than an actual job. Surely he is the reason for Keith to stay at the base and his job keeps him close, but there is nothing between them. Nothing worth risking everything. Not for Keith. Not that he will admit.

He leaves with a full bowl of goo and a translator chip in his hands. The walls of the complex seem to want to crush him and a part of Keith would accept that gladly before he has to face Haggar again.

**…**

If Keith thought he hated his job in the beginning, he hates all the more now. Every time he enters the cell, Shiro only looks at him with hopeful eyes, waiting for news or the return of his way to communicate. But with the first shaking of Keith’s head, that hope dies out immediately.

News about Haggar has yet to reach the base and Keith fears he has made the wrong decision with his actions. The Champion eats less, while the food he receives is already too little to be called a proper meal. The fights become sloppier, injuries happen more often, but there is little Keith can do about it. He wishes he can blame the beast’s primal instincts against danger, but he can’t. He is messing up on his own and the consequences are his to deal with.

In the end the excuse of a sudden illness is accepted, as long as the Champion improves his fighting again soon enough. That happens when there is finally a piece of news. It’s delivered to him through whispers during breaks. The high priestess is coming. After feebs of leaving the base alone her curiosity is stirred again, leaving her no choice but to visit Veatis again.

The popularity of the priestess is made clear within a few ticks. Where no one dares to talk bad about her in public back at Central Command, fearing that a snitch brings word to her or the emperor, the base on Veatis doesn’t cover its opinion. The woman should mind her own business, keep her druids away from the bases. The fact that their existence depends on Haggar’s personal interest seems to skip their minds. Her actions are despised by those who walk around the place and when seen, even Treflok joins their chatter.  Keith can’t help but to be part in the conversation held at the same table as he’s eating at.

“I can’t believe she needs to check in every feeb.” A taller Galra sighs as he pokes at his food like a child.

“Same here. The Champion isn’t dead yet so she doesn’t need to worry.”  Another, smaller and furrier soldier nods. Then they look at Keith. “You’re taking care of him, can’t you tell her to stay away next  time. If anything happens we’ll let her know.”

The taller one bashes his fist on the table in agreement, “Yeah we don’t need her or those creepy druids here.”

Yet Keith can only shake his head. “There is no talking to the high priestess. Her position exceeds any of us and talking against her will only make things worse.” Keith wants to add a _‘trust me, I have experience’_ but decides not to. How much experience can he even say he has? He has talked to her, sure. He has followed her orders, he has killed for her, betrayed for her, but none of it ever made her his enemy. The enemies he gained in return are only haunting shadows, waiting in the darkness, but going unseen to those who don’t know where to look.

“ _You_ worked at Central Command at least, probably the only kind of people that woman listens to.” The smaller soldier grumbles. Keith is sure he’s only a child, surely a few decafeebs younger than him and he is already the youngest around the Blades.

“I’m not even a lieutenant, if she doesn’t listen to Treflok or Ugret, she won’t listen to me.” Except that she might listen, that she might ask him about his actions and that he is filled with answers he can’t give her. He wishes Haggar chooses the option of ignoring instead, placing him in the same position as those surrounding him in the arena.

He decides to focus on his food. Haggar always brings a dark mood with her even if her name is the only thing in the room. The soldiers at his table don’t seem to care about him, too busy in their own conversation. They’re only in charge of the supplies for the ships, only knowing of the arena’s horrors through what they see on their days off. They don’t know anything and because of that Keith doesn’t feel the need to educate them.

**…**

Part of him wishes that Haggar’s name is the only thing haunting the base. When he sees Shiro again and watches those gray eyes beg for information, he can only nod in a confirmation that she’s close. Two quintents at that moment, two dragging quintents where the Champion fights his battles with even more restraint than usual. In reality, Shiro is lucky to only fight newly arrived prisoners, battles that Keith feels will cost him his credibility one quintent.

A part of Keith wants to give Shiro his translator chip back. He wants to tell him everything will be fine, that Haggar won’t stay and they’ll have the cell to themselves again in no time, but he can’t. The chip lays unused in his room, hidden with his blade and communicator. He’ll get to use it soon enough when everything is normal again. For as far as things can be called normal. The Champion continues to be Haggar’s property, her sole desire to move him back to her own place being enough to ruin everything he knows. Perhaps his job is the safest among those at the base. If Haggar hasn’t decided to hate him, he could move back to Central Command with her and Shiro. The option is there. Unlikely and undesirable, but there.

The day he wishes wouldn’t come, arrives too fast. Keith feels his heart stop when he sees her coming. Only few in the empire walk that slow and dragging. With the taller druids by her side, the high priestess in purple is an outstanding figure.  Keith is frozen in his spot by Shiro’s cell, where he was told to wait for her arrival. He can wait since he can’t move until she gives him orders, cold orders that he doesn’t want to follow.

“I heard you had been transferred here.” Her voice is as empty as Keith remembers it to be. A voice that can make anyone tremble in fear. Her shining yellow eyes focus from the prison door to him again. “You are guarding the Champion?”

“Yes high priestess. The Champion has been handed over to my care.” Keith nods, standing upright with a fist clenched above his heart. The hair on his back is standing up and every part of his body begs him to run away and leave everything behind.

“I see.” Haggar says and leaves him alone it with that. She doesn’t need to talk for Keith to understand that she wants to see her pet for herself. Keith quickly tries to unlock the door, fearing that he typed in the wrong code several times. When the shield falls down, there is only the fear for Shiro, who has to deal with the worst the empire has to offer and a guard who can only follow her commands.

When the door is open, Keith gets the same view of Shiro he got when he first set foot in the room. The man is curled up in a corner, sharing his thoughts with the floor as usual. Keith sighs as he steps in first. He doesn’t need Haggar to tell him what to do. It’s clear he has to collect her pet for her.

The eyes of the druids burn in his back and for a moment Keith fears he’s going to be too kind to the Champion. At same time he wonders if he’s doing too much by pulling Shiro away from the floor at his flesh arm. There is a soft grunting which Keith can’t be sure is pain or surprise. Perhaps it’s both, it’s most likely both. He binds Shiro’s hands behind his back and pushes him to Haggar who is still waiting in the opening of the door. Her hand traces the features of her Champion’s face, taking in every detail that has changed in the feeb she was gone.

Keith waits for her to yell at him, tell him he’s been slacking off, that she expected him to do better, but she doesn’t. Haggar doesn’t speak a word in the time she’s looking at her pet. Her expression is unreadable from the shadows of her hood. Keith feels his claws dig in Shiro’s hands in nervousness.

“Take him.” Is the first thing that comes from Haggar’s mouth again when her hand is back hanging limp at her side. The druids who didn’t move before enter  the cell and take the Champion from Keith’s hold. When he gets a look at Shiro’s hands when he’s let go, he can see there is no bleeding, only scratches that won’t cause any problem.

Even if the Champion has been handed over to the druids, Keith can’t help but to follow the group closely. They circle through the hallways until they reach a part Keith remembers clearly. The room at the end is the same lab where Keith found his translator chip. A druid’s lab, Haggar’s lab.

With her hand held up, Haggar gives him the order to stop following him. With the druids at her side, Shiro has no way of escaping to begin with. He hangs in their hold, only able to follow their steps. Where Keith has always seen a dangerous beast in a cage, he is only seeing a tame lamb now. He stands in the hallways as the figures of the druids slowly disappear from his view. When he can no longer see them, he still can’t move. When Shiro’s screams echo through the building, he can’t stay anymore. He turns around and leaves.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a small warning: since today's chapters are the Haggar chapters, this one has a small bit of Shiro torture. Though it pretty much all happens behind closed doors, I thought I'd let you know. Don't worry, he'll be fine... eventually...

Keith doesn’t see Shiro after that. When he visits Shiro’s cell the next quintent, he finds the place empty. The druids’ room further down the hall is locked and while the earlier screaming has died down, Keith can almost feel the presence on the other side of the door. It’s the feeling of a scared animal, terrified and ready to break any moment. It’s the Shiro Keith met at the beginning of his career. For once Keith is grateful for the door between them, not giving him a view of what’s behind.

He spends his time doing Treflok’s dirty work instead. Prisoners need to be fed, brought to their fights and left to bleed to death afterwards. Nothing has changed in the time that Keith stays at the base. The only thing that helps him is the time off. He won’t complain about that, he won’t say he hates Treflok for the decrease in work while Haggar is present. Though he is the only one who has profit from it. The others work harder, longer, to please the high priestess. Not that she will ever notice, not when she is only seen roaming the hallways in the darkest vargas, hidden in her own parts of the base during the rest of the quintent. Keith is glad he doesn’t have to see her. She is a haunting spirit that won’t let him go. There is no sending her away on his own, her own will is too strong to be played with. He is her toy, like any other person on the base.

He can’t ignore the stares. Stares from other tables in the cafeteria, stares from down the hallway, stares through walls that shouldn’t be watching him. He is a caged animal allowed to walk free. He’s entertainment for his own colleagues, living outside the arena for their everyday enjoyment. It is nothing new however. Eyes will always follow those that are different and at Veatis, he’s more than just different. Everyone is waiting for him to get thrown out. One problem with the Champion and he’s gone, one mistake and his head is rolling across the floor. He has learned how to ignore the voices, all he needs to care about is himself.

He grounds himself through his heritage. In his room he spends time by cleaning his blade. He feels the knife calling out to be used, to be useful in the war it was meant for. He wants to train, but isn’t able to do. During the few vargas of training he gets, he holds himself back. There is no doubt someone from Central Command knows how to fight, but his moves aren’t purely linked to the imperial forces. He’s too quick for an average Galra, too focused on small movement yet never missing the bigger picture. Though sometimes he wishes he didn’t see the bigger picture anymore. If only he could purely focus on one mission, spend his energy on one simple thing, instead of getting caught up in more than he can handle.

He can’t remember how long it has been since he spoke to the other Blades in person, how long it has been since Kolivan actively told him he was being too reckless. It has been at least a few feebs since he last saw Thace, decafeebs since he found himself on that lonely asteroid he would have to call home.  In reality it bothers him less than he wants. He can’t drag anyone down when he’s alone. He is the only one to blame for his actions, the only one to face its consequences. The mission is more important than the individual and that is all Keith needs to tell himself he’s doing the right thing.

The door swings open. Within seconds Keith hides the blade behind him under the covers. A sentry stands in the opening, waiting, but not taking in the room, missing the knife from its view.

“Haggar wishes to speak you.” The sentry speaks in a monotone voice.

Keith frowns, but decides not to ask any further questions. The sentry doesn’t know more than it’s told and whatever Haggar wants from him, she won’t tell to a piece of machinery.

“I see,” Keith sighs and stands up from the bed, hoping that the knife is hidden well enough from sight for now.

“Please follow me.” The sentry says and points to the hallway.

“I didn’t know I needed an escort.” Keith raises and eyebrow, but the gesture goes unnoticed to the sentry.

“I was told to bring you to her.”

There is nothing Keith can say against that. The sentry has its orders, nothing Keith’s struggle will be able to change. Especially not when Haggar is the one giving them. There are many reasons to have her call for him. Too many reasons he doesn’t want to think of. The walls watch him walk by, waiting for his final death.

The sentry leads him to the deeper parts of the building, where no light seems to enter. The druids’ lab is further down the hallway, stuck in the same stuffy air. He is left in front of a door, guarded by two druids at the side. They barely look at him, though Keith wonders if they see anything at all. Their shadowy figures seem to exist of nothing but air that materializes when necessary. In that way, they’re almost worse than Haggar in their appearances. Haggar’s steps are soft against metal, but they are there. Druids can’t be heard, don’t breath and don’t make a sound unless instructed to talk.

Keith decides the druids aren’t worth a look back. What they don’t deem him worth, he doesn’t want to give to them. Instead he walks past them, through the door the brings to a deeper stage of hell.

The room itself isn’t different from any other office, but Haggar’s presence is many more terrifying than Ugret’s. Maybe it’s the authority that’s weighing down on him, though mostly it’s the lack of distance between them that truly terrifies him. Haggar’s back is turned towards him, but her guard is always up. She barely turns around when Keith enters the room, fist on his heart in a way of greeting.

 “I was surprised when I saw your transfer papers, but seeing you’re with the Champion, I don’t think it was that much of a surprise.” It isn’t the way of starting a conversation Keith expected to have, but it’s quick to business, the way Central Command likes to work.

“I didn’t know the Champion was stationed here at first.” He answer hers.

“Of course you didn’t, I moved him here while you were enjoying yourself on the other side of the universe.” Haggar laughs and moves closer, too close for Keith’s liking. The sight of shining yellow from under her hood is a warning to run from potential danger. “So you get attracted to my projects by pure chance?”

Keith gulps, his throat closing up on him. “I guess so.”

“You were gone for a while only to find a base I created on the edge of the empire. That is no coincidence.”

“The universe is full with surprises.” Keith answers, his fist uncurling, hand falling back to his side again as he gives up defending himself from her.

Haggar grunts and dismisses the topic.

“So what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” Keith asks her, fearing for the worst. “You are not one to invite me for small talk.”

“Indeed I am not.” She says as she turns away from him and walks to the door, “Follow me.”

He doesn’t want to follow, he doesn’t want to know where she’s taking him. There are no death traps on the base, but with Zarkon’s high priestess leading the way, any place can take his life. One of the druids guarding the door follows after them. Keith is trapped, though his fear can’t take over now.

He knows the hallway they walking through. He knows exactly where they are going to end up: the lab. Another druid waits for them there, more eyes to look at him. When the door opens, the eyes are the least thing on his mind. The smell of blood is even worse than in the arena. It isn’t just the blood. There is the acid of vomit flowing through the air, combined with things Keith doesn’t want to know.

In the middle of the room, a table is standing up. Bound to the surface is a view Keith wants to erase from his vision. Shiro is covered in blood, burns and scratches. His head hangs low as he leans into his bindings. His chest rises slowly with every ragged breath that sounds in the room. He is brought purely to watch, to see his efforts taken away in front of him. The power he tried to give the Champion in a single feeb has all been for nothing.

“Why is he even here?” Keith asks as he side eyes the Champion’s unmoving figure. He doesn’t want to look at it longer than he has to. Neither does he want to show that he cares, for all Haggar has to know, he doesn’t.

“We are making a weapon, the last thing the Champion needs is a weakness.”

“You are breaking him.” Keith realizes.

“That we are.” From under the hood, Keith can see a grin forming. Shiro’s squirming figure in front of them is nothing but entertainment to her. “Yet so far we have only failed. There is something that keeps him going, something we need to get rid of.”

“He has nothing to lose.” Keith answers, without realizing the first shovel he has stuck in the ground to dig a perfect hole, “He holds onto to the little things you can’t take from him. You can’t break him like that.”

Haggar eyes him, “So what would you do?”

Keith gulps. His eyes drift to Shiro, who he isn’t sure is still conscious. “If you want to break him, you need to give and take from him. He has no way of communicating with us since his bodysuit is lacking a translator. Let him talk to the other prisoners, make him realize how much they are begging for their lives before he strikes. Let him build trust and destroy it when he isn’t paying attention.”

“And how do I know you won’t use him to turn against me?”

“I would never betray the empire, I am loyal to Zarkon.”

“Prove it to me.” She points at Shiro with all the intention Keith can understand. The instruments at the side are the options given to him. He has no magic to toy with, no energy to drain from the weak form in front of him. He decides to go with the electroshock weapon lying next to him. His hands tighten around it in unshowing hesitation. 

“ _Sorry_ ” Keith whispers, knowing Haggar can’t understand him. He raises the staff and slams it in Shiro’s side. He wishes he can unhear the sudden scream. He wishes that he doesn’t have to wear the fake expression of enjoyment. He wishes that Shiro’s unfocused eyes don’t truly look at him. He wishes that the electricity is powerful enough to erase the moment from his mind. When he removes the staff, the smell of burnt flesh enters his nose. It is an injury he will have to take care of later. Shiro ragged breaths are the only thing sounding in the room, erasing even the sound of the staff being put back in place. The only one smiling is Haggar. She is happy through the inflicted pain, satisfied with the loyalty of her subjects.

“I’m giving you one feeb to prove me you can break him.” She tells him, without looking at him.“Don’t disappoint me here.” With a voice as cold as hers there is no way of going against it. “You are not special. One mistake and I have you replaced before you know it.”

Keith nods. He has never been anything, for all he knows his replacement is waiting for him already. It’s a dream job in the hellish sections of the empire. The protection of the higher ups, combined with the horrible responsibilities. Do your job well and live, do your job badly and become the next experiment. 

“I only serve the empire.” He assures her, though her glance makes him wonder if she still believes such a thing. Her expression is unreadable when it’s still hidden under her hood. He has failed her before and he will fail her again. It’s a fact they’re both aware of, an inevitable future.

She dismisses him like he has no worth to her. He probably never had. She wants Shiro for herself, use him for her own schemes. Shiro is an experiment and Keith is next in line. There is no room for sympathy in the empire. When he leaves the room, with a heart so heavy he could fall to the ground and never get up, he can’t look back. For once it isn’t just the walls that follow him back to his room.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you mess up badly, best thing is to try and fix it, right? Keith is asking for a friend
> 
> Also, I saw my formatting was messing up somewhere, so I'll go ahead and fix that for the previous and upcoming chapters!

As quick as Haggar arrives, she disappears again. Her departure leaves behind a wave of relief throughout the entire base. Her marks are left everywhere, some clear, others invisible to the normal eye. Keith’s eyes are trained to see them. Her name is slowly spoken in the halls again, the fear of a present druid’s ear falling off with every passing varga. The games at the arena start to gain more spectators again now that the Champion is allowed back into the fights again.

Shiro… Keith wishes he’d be able to do more for him, but his chances have long been ruined. There is no doubt Haggar was aware of what she was doing. The small amount of trust he had from Shiro is gone.

The first sight of the Champion in a new bodysuit warms Keith’s heart. The man inside of it has a different effect. If Haggar’s marks are noticeable anywhere, it is on her Champion. A part of Keith is glad that the new suit covers up the burn on the man’s side, though the pain radiating from it is clear no matter what. It is going to leave a scar in the end, along with the number of other marks covering his body.

“Shiro,” Keith stammers when he steps into the cell. There is no reaction, why would Shiro want to reply when the floor didn’t just stab him in the back. “I’m so sorry for what happened.”

“Save it for someone who wants to listen to your lies.” For once Keith wishes the floor was worth the full attention. The disappointment in Shiro’s voice makes him want to disappear, turn away and drift through space again. “You are just like the rest of them in the end.”

It hurts, more than Keith wants to admit.  He can’t do anything right, can’t stick to one role to fulfill it. He isn’t a soldier, isn’t a spy, isn’t a guard and definitely isn’t as trustworthy as he wishes to be. In the end he only follows order that he’ll disobeys in the end.

 _“She forced me to do it”_ , _“You know I can’t go against Haggar”_ , _“I need to keep my cover up inside the base”_ the options to continue the conversation flow through his head, but in the end he decides to keep quiet. There are no excuses for what he has done. The only thing he can do is to deal with the consequences on his own.

They’re consequences he doesn’t want to face. It’s fine when it is only him, when no one but him has to suffer from his mistakes, but life is never like that. The one who suffers the most is Shiro while Keith bears his own psychological burden. Right now, Shiro’s silence is the only punishment he faces, which is nothing compared to what he feels he deserves. That he got Shiro a permanent way of communicating doesn’t seem like an achievement anymore.

“You have a fight in later this quintent, eat and make sure your injuries won’t drag you down. I think neither of us want to spend more time in the med bay than necessary.” He says as he places a bowl with food on the floor. He doesn’t look at Shiro when he reaches the door again, doesn’t listen for any signs that the conversation didn’t just end there. He already knows it did.

**…**

Not only Haggar’s actions haunt him. If anything, it’s her words that stick with him. “ _One mistake and I have you replaced before you know it”_ it’s the sad truth that binds him to her.  His spot is willed, and any base has at least one person that gladly takes said job. He is alone is field, predators surrounding him in the high grass. The first vulture is standing right behind him.

“Tough time with the Champion?”

Keith jumps at the voice behind him. He’s met by a smile when he turns around. A wide grin of a soldier he barely knows. It’s the same female guard as he has talked to before, her appearance almost as haunting as Haggar’s.

“What are you doing here?” He asks her as a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, escapes him.

“Hallway guarding.” She shrugs as she circles around him. “And in case you didn’t notice, we’re _in_ a hallway right now.”

“Is that your reason to sneak up on me like this?” Keith growls at her.

“Wow, you really have a bad mood, I didn’t know that was possible with the Champion already bringing the worst atmosphere with him.”

“What is it you want?” He wants to be left alone and she knows it. He knows she’s aware of that fact. He doesn’t have to make it any more obvious than he usually does. He’s tired. Tired of staying within the empire, tired of being used, tired of hiding… just tired.

“Nothing.” There is a singing tone in her voice, and her feet move lightly across the floor. She isn’t there for nothing, she never is. Keith doesn’t know her, not when he has only been able to talk to her a few times during dinner.

“If it’s nothing you want, then just continue doing your job. I have things to do.”

“Like what?” She asks as she twirls in front of his face. “Pouting about your lost chances for a steady job over at Central Command?”

“I don’t care about working there.”

“You must be the only one then. Anyone would kill to get your position and work up to Haggar’s level.”

“Like you?” The questions doesn’t need an answer. He sees the twinkle in her eyes as they fixate more on him. She’s like the others, waiting for him to mess up, standing first in line when he leaves.

“Who knows.” She grins and then she’s gone again, walking past him to continue her job. “Just watch your back, not everyone is going to be waiting for you to ruin things by yourself.” She waves at him, but she doesn’t look back. For once, Keith is grateful for that.

**…**

He tries to shake his uneasiness of with the only ways he knows. He gets food, but the other soldiers seem to look at him every moment he’s eating. He realizes he has almost forgotten how much he hates being in public spaces and wishes deep inside that everyone could just wear a helmet during dinner, no matter how awkward it is with eating.

So instead of food, he goes to his blade, but for once, the metal can’t calm him down. He only sees his own reflection in the luxite, the reflection of a broken soldier and spy. It doesn’t tell him he’s been doing the best he can, that the Blade is out there to pick him up again when he’s truly lost his way. It judges him silently, driving him crazy.

His communication to the Blade is right next to him, but he has learned not to send messages when it isn’t needed, especially not too close after each other. He found it out the hard way, sending too many messages on his first mission and almost being found out because of it. Kolivan doesn’t want to hear about his personal problems, doesn’t need to know about small setbacks if it doesn’t influence the bigger mission. And with Keith’s mission being no more than to stay in the ranks and get information, anything having to do with Shiro isn’t in Kolivan’s interest.

So when nothing else works out, Keith finds himself going towards distractions he never thought about before. The outside air of Veatis does him good, the smell of the trees, the mud, hell even the damping gas of an Unulu dish is better than the air of the arena. The chatter of the merchants, the laughter of soldiers who are on break, it feels strange, but it’s a calming.  He listens in on chats for once, much more relaxing when he’s outside of the buildings. Yet the shadow of the arena looms over him, begging him to return. He hates to give in to it. When he steps in line with other soldiers he found himself taking with.

It’s different coming in from the front entrance, going past guards that are doing their job better than he ever could. Still the smell of blood, fresh and lingering in the sand, makes him want to turn back and check out more shops outside. It’s just like the first time he set foot on Veatis, no more than a feeb ago. The view in front him is too similar to that day, but instead of a monster, it’s a small prisoner entering the ring. Shiro shows up on the other side, let in by a sentry that does Keith’s job without complaints. Where Keith hopes he can see the fighting spirit of a Champion of the empire, he is met with hesitation. The opponent seems to beg, trying to get away from a certain death and Shiro hesitates in return. The words whispered in the ring are soft, barely audible but Keith is able to pick small parts of it up.

> _“I don’t want to kill you”_

It’s a weakness taking over Shiro. In the end, keeping a prisoner alive is only more trouble for both parties. Keith knows Shiro is aware of this. The arena is nothing but suffering, a hell within a hell. Keeping someone alive isn’t mercy and Shiro should have figured that out long ago. It is because of that, that the final strike doesn’t come as a surprise for anyone.

> _“I’m sorry. I’ll make it a quick death.”_

They’re Shiro’s final words before the creature falls down and blood once again fills the arena. Cheers are deafening and as Shiro is brought back to his cell, Keith decides it’s time to go back to work as well. The Champion still needs to eat, even if their meeting will be no more than a few dobashes of awkward silence.


	9. Chapter 9

There are only a few things Keith can’t take. One is being kept out of important information, and with the mentality of the Blade of Marmora, he has found himself upset about that too many times. Kolivan, despite working only with earlier gained intelligence, isn’t a man who lets the biggest details out if they aren’t needed. Another thing he can’t take is being left behind. Loneliness is something he has learned to deal with. Despite being part of a team, he prefers acting on his own, doing what he deems right. Emotions are a luxury he and no other Blade can afford. Loneliness is no problem to him, but once he get attached, he knows things will go wrong. Everyone he invests love in leaves eventually. First his mother and now Shiro. If they don’t leave on their own, he will be the one to scare them away.

He wants to put the blame away, but in the end the only blame falls on himself for being who he is. Shiro doesn’t talk to him, not without anger dripping from every word. With every meeting, Keith wishes looks could actually kill, that he’d fall dead in the middle of the doorway, leaving an escape route for the Champion while he’s freed from his own torture.

He doesn’t want to open his communicator, because he knows the next message he’ll find will only make things worse. If it’s Kolivan, he’ll be scolded about his work. If it’s Thace, it’s more information about Haggar’s plan, more information about Shiro’s fate. If it’s Ulaz then Keith is sure everything is lost. Ulaz’s reports only talk about Haggar’s experiments and the druids and after their last encounter, Keith is not ready for more.

So when the message does seem to come from Ulaz, he buries his face in his hands and groans. The message can’t be left unread, he has to read and delete it, but he doesn’t want to. He knows there’s the option of opening it without looking, but with Ulaz risking his life to even send new intel, it’s worst thing he can do. He takes a deep breath and lifts his head out of his hands. It’s only one message, one set of text that he can forget about before he knows it. He taps on the notification and feels his heart stop when he reads its contents.  

> [ _†18-21 ¤196 ID- Ulaz || Word has spread about the search parties for Voltron. An energy equal to the blue lion has been found in X-9-Y. If we want to have any chance on getting it before them, we need to take action. Make sure the Champion is one our side in order to have our plans work out._ ]

It’s already too late for that. No matter how much information he spills, Keith doubts Shiro will trust him. And with Haggar in and out the base, his secrets can easily be passed through to ears that shouldn’t be hearing them. Thace is an amazing person, but the distance between their bases leaves him behind on information about the rest of the Empire. Not that Keith sends out information about his mission in the first place. Next to Kolivan knowing he’s there with the Champion, there isn’t much the blade knows about the mission. Ulaz sends him medical files that lay around, Thace keeps him up to date with Central Command chatter.

In that way, it’s strange that the message about Voltron comes from Ulaz, not Thace. Whatever Sendak’s ship has been up to, it’s clearly more than the entirety of Central Command. Maybe it’s Sendak’s way of working himself even further into Zarkon’s favor. Bring him a part of a legend and he’ll bring you more than personal training.

Keith sighs and puts the transponder down. Telling the truth is the least he can do. Without Shiro’s trust, he has no reason to stay on Veatis. It isn’t just his personal interest that is being killed, the risks of having his head cut down any moment aren’t worth it. Even if it goes wrong, he can’t sink any lower. He can leave and pull even more distrust to himself. He has no trust around other people anyways.

It is the only way he has. Ulaz might be one to go against orders and follow his instincts, no one works on impulses as much as Keith. He tucks his knife and transponder underneath his armor before he leaves the room. Deep breaths guide him through the hallways, to where he wants himself to be.

**…**

He doesn’t like having to face Shiro again. It hurts looking at him. He’s broken down, exhausted from earlier fights Keith apparently missed out on. He’ll take the blame on that later when he gets fired by Ugret to begin with.

Shiro sits down on the floor as usual. It’s a sight he’s used to, especially when there is nothing else inside the small cell. The moment Shiro looks at him, Keith feels a glimmer of hope, but when Shiro knows who’s entered the room, their shared gaze falls apart again.

“Listen to me,” Keith says as he crouches down in front of Shiro, heels not touching the ground as he balances himself on his calves. “What I’m about to tell you is important and can change both of our lives on this base. Don’t tell anyone or the next time we meet, I’m standing over you in the arena, ready to take your title.”

Although Keith is sure that it is an empty threat, with almost no experience in the ring himself and already having felt death from the Champion, it is enough to get his attention. It is a silent response, but enough to tell him to go on.

He takes out his knife and lays it down on the floor. “Have you ever seen something like this?” He asks as he unwraps the bandage at the hilt and shows the Marmora emblem.

Shiro shakes his head, the reply Keith was already hoping for. If Thace, Ulaz or anyone else had already shown their blade to him, they’d be long wiped from their ranks.

“It’s a luxite blade, carved by rebel Galra.” He says as he picks up the blade again and looks Shiro straight in the eye. “I am no Galra soldier, Shiro. I’m trying to end a war.”

The blade shifts in his hand until it forms a sword, solid and glowing in the soft, purple light. “We’re spread everywhere throughout the empire, trying to gather information and stop invasions where possible.”

“And what would that make you?” Shiro asks. His expression looks serious, but the tone in his voice makes Keith question his sincerity.

“A spy, if anything.” Keith shrugs, tracing the edges of his blade with his fingers. “I’ve been in the empire’s ranks for a few decafeebs, but you never get used to it.”

“But you capture and kill innocent people.”

“Sometimes you have to play along to gain trust, but I haven’t done such a thing in ages. They tell you you need a bloodlust of unquenchable to be able to work at Central Command, but that’s only if you want a higher position.”

“If this is your way of trying to make up for everything that happened earlier, it’s not going to work.”

“It isn’t. I only want to make sure you understand that what I did had to be done.”

“You seemed too close to Haggar.”

“We have a past.” Keith mutters as he averts his eyes. His hand clenches the hilt of the blade.

“I also have a past with her, but you don’t see me standing next to her like that.” Shiro assures him as his he clenches his prosthetic hand.

“It is what she wants though. It’s exactly why she’s keeping you here and why you were giving that translator.”

Shiro’s hand moves up to his neck where it traces the position of the translator chip. “What kind of difference would a translator make?”

“It-” Keith sighs and lowers his head, “It was my idea. I told her the reason you didn’t break yet was because you needed an emotional connection to something first. She is going to use this against the both of us. If I don’t break you, it’s the end for both of us.”

It isn’t the best way of wording things, but words have never been Keith’s thing. Shiro’s drop into a foul mood is the best reply to that. It is in that moment that Keith’s sure he has lost all littletrust there was between them. He’s ruining things, the things Ulaz entrusted him with. Disappointing Ulaz is the last thing he wants to do, especially if that means everything will fall on him then.

“How about this?” Keith says as he sighs and sits down on the floor, “Ask me anything you want to know and I’ll answer it. Whatever it is you need to trust me again, ask me.”

Shiro stays silent, looking down for a moment. When he looks at Keith again, something seems to have changed, but Keith can’t be sure what it exactly. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

“The long silence and you trying to rip my throat out a moment later? Very much.”

“Yeah, that. Do you know why I didn’t kill you that day?” He takes the confused look and long silence as a no, “You said something. The first word I could understand and it wasn’t Galran. It was without a doubt English. You clearly called yourself ‘stupid’. Why?”

 _Why?_ It’s a simple question with a difficult answer. Why did he mutter that one single word at that time? Why did he fall back to a language he had never heard. Perhaps it was the feeling of death, the realization of seeing his family again. Maybe it was an entirely different thing, calling from deep inside him that wanted to get out. 

Keith sighs at the realization of what he has started. He has to tell the truth to keep Shiro’s trust. It’s his own grave that he’s dug. A grave he wishes to come out of a new person, as dead as he may be.

“It’s something my mom taught me. It came from my dad, apparently she liked the sound of it.”

“How did your mom learn English. Where did your father come from?” There it is, the question that was waiting to come up.

“My dad…” Keith sighs, “My mom met him when she was away on a mission. She liked him, stayed with him until she got me and went back to the Blade. She always told me he came from dirt.”

“Your father was human, wasn’t he?”

Keith nods. “Talking to you made me realize that.”

It isn’t just that. He knew his father wasn’t Galra, he knew which corners of the universe he’d have to look in to find him. He just never got the chance to do so. Kolivan kept him sheltered from it when his mother left, didn’t want him anywhere near the galaxies that could have had an answer. The only thing he was told was ‘knowledge or death’ and even after going through the trials, a solid answer as to where his mother was, was never obtained. He had acted as if he had forgotten, didn’t care about his origin.  He had his mother’s blade, which was the only thing he’d need within the organization. Even if they would go for ‘knowledge or death’, the other side of his heritage was a knowledge he wasn’t allowed to find. It was fine back then. It wasn’t fine decafeebs later, when he was stuck on Central Command with nothing but his own past being unknown to him. He couldn’t and still won’t blame Kolivan for keeping it from him. He isn’t the only half breed in the Blade, but he is the only one not accepting the part of him that’s Galra. He tries to grab onto something that moves him away from the source of the war. Let it be dirt or humans, anything can tell him that he isn’t the reason the universe is falling apart.

“Does your father still live there?” Keith looks up to Shiro’s face, softened up with a small line of concern.

“I don’t know.” Keith shakes his head. “I don’t know if he’s alive or who he is. Perhaps I could travel there myself one day, try to find him.”

There is a silence and Keith doesn’t know if it means any good this time. He has had his chance in restoring his relationship. He has seen a hopeful expression, which is more than he could hope for. He takes it as his cue to leave.

“I will try to get you out of here. The empire isn’t a place for you.” Keith tells him as he tries to give a reassuring smile. An action that is answered by words Keith didn’t know he’d ever hear.

 “ _If_ you get me out of here, I can take you to Earth.”

It is an empty promise for as far as Keith knows. The main component of  ‘if’ is dangerous to speak of. It is what Keith wants, even if it isn’t what’s best for the Blade, but the actual truth is right in front of him. Shiro is a pet, a plaything that can be discarded when he’s no longer needed. Weapon or not, any sign of weakness is enough to have everything be done with. But as empty as the ‘if’ is, it feels reassuring. There is something out there that isn’t the Galra empire, that isn’t the war. Maybe there planet no one is interested in, but the danger of the empire hangs above it no matter what. Especially if Voltron has been spotted in the system, it will only be a matter of time before the planet is blown of the star map.

“Maybe once all of this is over.” When there is no threat following either of them. When he doesn’t have to come back to Kolivan, Haggar or anyone else. When he’s actually free. “I’d love to see Earth for myself.” He really does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Krolia might not be around for Keith, but she taught him the important things in life: basic English that eventually gets the Champion to trust you. Also, please just let this boy go to Earth even if he looks like a purple cat :'(
> 
> Anyways, tomorrow will be the first time with art :D and since it'll be 3 chapters on one day, I'll post before work as well.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this right before leaving for work, but fun story about chapter 10. This used to be 3 different chapters, which I think is kinda obvious when you read through it. It made it pretty hard to get it all nicely in one chapter, but I needed it to be at least 2k to be a chapter for me. There is a lot going on i the next three chapters and chapter 10 probably has most of it all...
> 
> And today's chapter has art! This was made by the lovely [Konah](http://konaharts.tumblr.com/) and you can also reblog it on tumblr [here](http://konaharts.tumblr.com/post/176076082408/this-is-my-piece-for-the-keithminibang-the-fic)

Kolivan isn’t happy. Then again, Kolivan is never happy. But Keith has let his emotions take over, stopped listening to the few orders he had in the first place. It’s a surprise Kolivan still lets him do this. It isn’t unknown that Keith has done his own thing on missions before, following his own instincts before the Blade’s agenda. 

Luckily, Kolivan’s words are short and don’t form more than a warning. It is his own position that he’s playing with, his own life. Whatever the consequences of his actions are, he isn’t allowed to drag the rest of the Blades with him. The ones who have been undercover for so long, longer than Keith can remember, he can’t play with their lives. The secret of the Blade may be out to Shiro, but it is a secret he is sure to carry to his grave. After all, he’ll get Shiro out before information can leak, or the both of them are long dead.

The good thing about it all is that Shiro talks to him again. His risk in revealing his identity has paid off well, better than expected. Shiro knows when to stop asking questions and whether it’s a thing he knows on his own or something the Galra have forced him into, Keith is glad. Shiro doesn’t ask about the bigger mission of the Blades or what they are planning to do. It is only the two of them together and Keith in response only shares information that concerns them both.

In some way it’s comforting to have the feeling of trust back, but it is one removed worry replaced by ten new ones. With every quintent, more wounds cover Shiro’s skin. Even if it’s normal, it’s not something Keith finds himself getting used to. It’s different from the soldiers at Central Command or home base. They have chosen to be marked in that way, Keith knows he has at least, in both situations. The scars are marks of victory, of getting further in the war and being one step closer to seeing it all end. For the gladiators there is no progression in the war. It’s a battle to stay alive and for what? To be killed in the next battle? And a battle of what significance? The last time Keith checked, the war of the empire didn’t take place in the arena. The scars, despite being a sign of survival, hold no bigger value. When time comes, they will work against the person whose skin is tainted. In Shiro’s case, Keith notices, the scar across his nose and edge of his right arm are the ones that will take Shiro down first. The skin tightens in the poor conditions of the cell, leaving the man more and more often unable to do anything without hissing in pain. The wounds, Keith can treat. The scars are a different story. All Keith can do, is sit there with him when he brings food, running his claws through Shiro’s hair as the man tries to curl in on himself. The food goo has only barely been touched by the time Keith checks in another time.

This on its own shows the advantage of their relationship. In the morning, when Veatis’ natural warmth has found its way into the arena’s hallways and makes it more bearable for Shiro to move, the food of the other night gets eaten. It would call for rescheduled food, even less food in general, but Keith doesn’t let that happen. During the first check of quintent, he takes the now empty bowl out and gets rid of it before anyone can see him. Then vargas later he brings a new one with breakfast. He guesses he breaks at least 5 other rules in the meantime. He keeps the Champion on too much of a solid schedule, gives him more food than actually necessary and gives him information about his upcoming battles. Adding in the lack of other psychological torture, yeah he’s definitely not doing a good job at that.

It isn’t what the Empire wants him to do, but it’s the best he can do. Veatis has no actual rules and so there aren’t many to break that way. As long as he plays his role, he’s secure. And it makes life almost easy, his past nonexistent.

But the moment he wants to believe he’s been freed of it, everything comes back again.

He brings Shiro back from a small fight, an execution before the masses. It has become normal, the walks from the arena are always quiet, no one to bother them. So when a voice pierces through the usual silence, it’s clear something isn’t right.

“They say you never get to see a ghost, yet I always seem to find you. Don’t I, my dear White Ghost?”

Keith’s blood runs cold when he hears the much too familiar voice. He doesn’t dare to turn around, he doesn’t dare to face what he ran away from. He turns around in stages, slowly as fear starts to take over every muscle.

The taller figure, though shorter than most Galra, behind him is a vision of a dream, a nightmare in Keith’s case. His long white hair matches Keith’s, but the white stands out more against the deep blue armor the man is wearing. He leans against the wall of the wall, his bright blue eyes focused on only one thing: Keith.

“Lo-Lotor…” Keith stutters, unsure how to keep posture, “What? What are you? Why are you here?” The sentences are broken up before Keith can think about it.

Lotor moves closer, smiling softly in a way that Keith wishes his body would react to with fear. Instead, the smile feels almost welcoming. Dangerous, but with a tint of home. A home Keith wishes he had lost forever.

“I thought I’d bring a visit to this great ‘Champion’ I’ve heard stories of.” Lotor moves away from the wall, slowly getting closer. “You know I love a good match, don’t you?”

Keith gulps. He wants to take a step back, but Shiro is right behind him. He finds himself stuck between two powers. Two powers who seem to have found interest in each other.

“And then I found you.” Lotor continues as his smile grows into a grin, “Quite the catch as always I must say. Even after the time you ran away from me.”

“I didn’t run away, you know that.”

“Of course you didn’t. That witch wanted you back, didn’t she?”

“You knew about us already, I had to decide what was best-”

The contact between Lotor’s fist and wall halts Keith’s sentence.

“You could have ran away with me instead.” Lotor grunts. The smile is gone, his eyes pierce through Keith’s soul in slits. “We were already on the run, it would have been the same as this.”

“I am loyal to the empire, you know that.” Keith protests.

“I AM the empire.” Lotor yells, the words echoing through the emptiness of the hall as they paralyze Keith. “If you were so loyal to the empire, you wouldn’t have done what you did.” Then the tantrum is over and Lotor is standing tall in front of Keith with the same old smile again. “But that doesn’t matter,” his voice is soothing. A deadly trap Keith wants to fall for with every passing tick. “I didn’t come here for a heartfelt reunion, I came here for him.”

Lotor points at Shiro, who hasn’t moved during their entire conversation.

“The Champion isn’t scheduled for any fights soon.” Keith tries to argue, but he knows the attempt is futile.

“Do you think I follow any schedules?” Lotor asks as he moves to Shiro as if inspecting the gladiator. “I’m quite sure the commanders here have an opening in their schedule for their prince.”

“Does Haggar know you’re here?” If she does then Keith knows he has a chance. The people are loyal to Zarkon and Haggar at first. If she has given them orders then-

He is met by laughter. “What do you think? That woman doesn’t know where my ship is no matter how many spies she sends to enter my ranks.”

It’s a lost cause. There is no way Lotor gives up on a dream match. No one would when the best gladiator of the empire, the empire’s possible best weapon, is standing right in front of them.

“I will have to see later. Right now the Champion needs to be returned to his cell.” It’s not purely an excuse. Shiro has been out of his cell for too long.

“I’ll help you.” Lotor offers with eyes that speak ‘I want to talk more to you’.  Keith wishes he can refuse him, wishes he can tell him to move away, but he can’t.

“There is protocol to put him away, you can’t be in the same cell.”

“I’ll wait outside then.” Lotor shrugs. “I’ll do anything to see my ghost after all.”

**…**

One thing Keith is thankful for, is that Lotor is true to his word in a situation like this. He doesn’t follow them through the door and stays outside when the force field separates them. The moment Keith knows Lotor can’t hear them he lets his composure fall. He pushes Shiro along to the corner of the room, checks over the clamp and takes a deep breath.

“I guess trouble continues to keep finding you.” He mutters after he lets go of Shiro and drops his hands to his side.

“Who is he?” Shiro asks. His look is serious, demanding an answer.

Keith sighs. It’s the question he should have seen coming. “He’s…” Through his mind runs every possible way of describing Lotor.  “He’s Lotor, the crown prince of the empire.”

He can see Shiro’s face pale and as much as he wishes it doesn’t bother him, deep inside he feels terrible.

“By the way he was talking to you, you two know each other.” Shiro mumbles, eyes drifting to the closed door.

“It’s no big deal. People meet easily at Central Command, that’s all.” Keith assures him.

He gets a soft hum in return. He wishes it’s an acknowledgement, though he doubts Shiro will let him off so easily.

“If anything, he’s here to fight you and test his strength. There is no way of stopping him from getting what he wants, so all I can ask is that you’re prepared for it.”

“I never heard of princes fighting gladiators.” Shiro chuckles and a part of Keith is glad there is still a bit of humor left in him.

“Trust me. Lotor is not your ordinary prince.”

“Which is why he’s waiting for you outside?”

“I guess that’s a part of it. Which is also why I have to go.” Keith says as he eyes the door. Part of him can feel Lotor’s presence through the metal.

“Will I see you later then?” Shiro asks. Keith nods.

“I should be there in the morning, later this quintent if Lotor doesn’t keep me too busy. You should save your strength for the next fight. If it’s up to Lotor, you’d be in the ring right now.”

He doesn’t want to leave Shiro behind, especially not if it means spending time with Lotor. But when the door falls shut behind him again, a purple glow covering the metal, and he’s face to face with Lotor again, he can’t feel the fear he wanted to portray towards Shiro.

He doesn’t trust the open arms greeting him, guiding him through the hallways, outside the arena, to a secluded room in the central building. He doesn’t trust Lotor, but he doesn’t fear him either. Lotor is like the Blade’s base, home with a sense of danger. He has to stay alert for smaller things, but deep inside he knows nothing will happen.

So when he sits down in a room he knows are the dining quarters of the higher ups, and when two plates of food that actually seems edible are being served, he isn’t surprised. It is Lotor’s way of making him comfortable, giving him the things he isn’t given on a normal day.

“I must say,” Lotor starts the conversation while he doesn’t even touch his food, “I was surprised to see you here. Who would have thought that the edge of the empire was calling to you this much. Or were you  brought here against your will?”

Keith gulps, something that is enough of an answer for the Galran prince.

“No of course not. It must have been the same like we met. You get involved in things that overpower you in the end.” Lotor reasons.

“What happened between us has nothing to do with losing control.” Keith says.

“That is what you say, but does your temper truly enable you to do what it is you wish?” It doesn’t, Keith knows that much. It has never done much for him. It has brought him to places, surely. It lay things on his path that were worth the risks, but the risks were still there to turn against him eventually.

“What happened, happened. I’m not going back to the past, we both know who I am.” Keith tells him with a huff.

“Of course, but coming back to me doesn’t mean we go back to the past.”

Keith sighs as he pokes at the food in front of him. He isn’t hungry. If anything, he wants to leave. The feeling of home that he wants to feel is slowly broken down. He can find someone else to talk to, someone else to make the same mistakes with, or someone who he can be with without having to worry about anything.

 “What about the others?” He asks as the conversation has fallen dead.

“If you mean Acxa, Ezor, Zethrid and Narti with ‘the others’, they’re back at my ship. I told them to come watch the fight though, they’ll be thrilled to see you again.”

“Except that I’m not thrilled to see them. Or you in that case.”

“That’s too bad, I love seeing you.” Lotor smirks.

“So you can kill me?”

“Now why would I want to kill you?”

“You know exactly why.” Keith grunts. He can’t go against Lotor, but they both know the truth that runs between them. Lotor’s soft laughter is a confirmation of that. Keith wants to say he hates it, he hates it so much that he wants to burn the image in closest supernova he can find. But he can’t.

“What happened between us and the witch is in the past. She hasn’t been able to track me ever since. What you caused can be seen as a mere ‘inconvenience’.” The tone of his voice grows more serious at the last word and if it wasn’t for the fact that Keith is certain he can’t run, he wouldn’t be sitting at the table anymore.

“So you want to forgive me?”

“I want you back.” Comes the simple reply. But Lotor’s words sound too good to be true and Keith knows that they are. He has seen people fall for the flattery before, he knows exactly what that sense of comfort feels like. And all the same, he wants to embrace it again.

“I already told you I’m not going to. My duties lay with the empire, not you.”

“Which is what you are told to say. Look deeper in your heart, Keith, deep down you know you want to run away from all this.” Keith does. He wants nothing more than to be away from the empire, to be away from everyone keeping him enchained to posts he doesn’t like. But despite how much he wants to run away, the image of running with Lotor isn’t on his mind. Instead he sees himself with Shiro, running far far away to hide inside the mystery of Earth.

So he shakes his head and Lotor blinks a few time as he tries to progress the rejection. No one close to him has rejected him before, not without the necessary consequences. Yet Keith doesn’t fear that. He already found himself in his own hell.

“Well,” Lotor sighs, his voice sounding calm in contrast to what the prince must be feeling on the inside,  “you can always make up your mind. I will be here at least until I got my fight. Perhaps I might stay even longer now that I found something of interest to me.”

He stands up and walks away from the table. He gives Keith one last glance as a smile spreads across his face.

“I was thinking about fighting within the next few quintents. No need to linger around this base longer than necessary, right?” Once again, there is the smile and Keith is given no time to answer as the prince is turned around again and leaves the room.

Keith feels himself fall back into his chair, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Lotor has found him. Lotor is on the exact same base as him, his ship and generals floating in orbit. And worst of all, Lotor is ready to fight Shiro.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws confetti* another chapter that was supposed to be two originally. Also one of the fight scenes of today... I swear every chapter I'm posting today was hell to write :')

He knows he’s said ‘sorry’ too often in the short time he has known Shiro, but he means every single one of them. So when he enters Shiro’s cell the following quintent, the words leave him to easily.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers as he steps inside the room with two sentries right behind him. It is the first time he has skipped the usual morning routine since his relation with Shiro has started to become better again. Shiro has a disadvantage with the general confusion, but with Lotor being the challenger, it becomes a lot harder to break rules. Despite his otherwise lax nature, Lotor keeps up a facade towards to the rest of the base. This isn’t the Lotor Keith knows, or at least he wants to believe that.

“We have to go, the prince’s time is precious.” He says as he grabs Shiro’s arms and pulls him up right. “Don’t resist him too much, I don’t want to see you get hurt because of something so stupid.” He whispers as he binds Shiro’s arms behind his back and motions the sentries to take over. 

He doesn’t know if the warning is really meant for Shiro, or if it applies to himself. Maybe it’s both. Though he’s sure Shiro knows what he’s doing, the man has been a gladiator for at least a decafeeb he assumes. He wants to believe that he himself knows what he’s doing as well. After the training at the Blades, the ages at Central Command and at Lotor’s side and even the few movements at Veatis… he should have learned how to be careful. But in the end Kolivan’s warnings always come back to him. He has no idea what he’s doing.

Shiro no longer seems to care. His eyes are empty again, shutting himself off from the outside to make sure he doesn’t get hurt more than he already has been, or will be. At that time, Keith isn’t sure he can come through to him anymore. Perhaps it’s better that way. Perhaps he isn’t supposed to get attached to anyone so close to the edge of death.

Keith tries his best to shake off the feeling of approaching doom. The walk to the arena doesn’t make it any better. Shiro doesn’t look at him, not like he would during earlier fights. His mind is somewhere else, somewhere Keith doesn’t want to go himself. The sentries are not one for a conversation either. Their heavy, metal steps are the only sound for a while, until they reach the closest part of the arena. The tension is heavy in the air, soft yells carrying that feeling with them.

“Remember,” he says when the cheers from the arena start to echo louder through the abandoned halls, “you don’t have to win. This won’t affect your status as champion. You only need to live.”

As he gives Shiro the final push into the arena, the only thought that guides him to the stands is the hope that the title of Champion wasn’t earned on Puigians and lowlife prisoners alone.

**…**

Keith hates that he can’t watch the match from the entry ways below. Despite knowing his way around the arena, the walk to the stands is long enough to make him miss the first part of the fight. It may be only the announcement of the fighters and the first provocation, but that is enough when it comes to two strong fighters. 

When Keith finally finds himself a spot between soldier whose names he doesn’t even bother to learn, the two fighters are all over the ring.

He always loved watching Lotor fight. But he liked watching him from up close, not while stuck watching the watch surrounded by soldiers wishing for blood.

It is then that he realizes this is only the third time he has officially watched Shiro fight. The standing at the side, seeing nothing but flying dirt and shadows, is nothing compared to the official suspense on the stands.  Maybe it is because this time Keith doesn’t have the assurance that Shiro will come out victorious. He wouldn’t be the first champion to fall to Lotor, holding a title only because the prince never cared for attaining such things.

As much as Keith believes in Shiro’s powers, he knows Lotor has more experience, more decafeebs in the field to know every possible move and outcome. Compared to that, Shiro would be no more than a recruit, trained but without the necessary experience. No, the experience could come later, when Haggar had broken him down far enough to do everything she wants. When she finds the upgrades she wants for him, when she has rebuild him from scratch into something that can only be Galra. When he’s no longer Shiro.

All the time Keith watches the fight in anticipation. Lotor’s movements are fast, but Shiro is careful not to repeat a single action. That is until there is a moment of hesitation in Shiro’s attacks and the crowd gasps. There is no screaming. The only sound arises is the cheering when the Champion hits the ground.

**...**

Keith doesn’t know what he’s doing, letting his body go on autopilot the moment the match is over. Lotor stands in the arena as he greets the crowd. Keith feels his eyes focusing on him, but breaks any contact immediately after.

It’s difficult to walk past the standing crowd. He knows he’s breaking up a party in honor of the prince, but Keith knows where his priorities lay. He doesn’t have the time to apologize for every soldier that snaps at him for bumping into them. By the time he reaches the nearest exit, Lotor still stands inside the ring, accompanied by a trail of blood leading outside.

He has seen it happen enough before. He has treated Shiro’s wounds himself, yet now he feels a knot in his stomach that he can’t get rid of. It’s _his_ fault Lotor got the idea for the challenge, _his_ fault Shiro got stuck in that ring, _his_ fault that any of this happened in the first place. A tiny voice of reasoning wants to tell him it’s something he can’t do anything about, but it’s only a whisper overpowered by the yelling inside his head.

He knows the hallways of the arena, but he can’t remember which parts he has passed already. His feet bring him where he wants to be, where he needs to be.  His feet only slow down once he arrives at his destination. The door to the med bay is closed, but the rushing of footsteps and the smell of fresh blood is too present to ignore.

His hand hovers above the control panel for a second before he slams it down and runs through the opening.

He expects the med bay to be pure chaos, which in some way it is, but less than he expects it to be. Medics run around, but it almost seems like they are ignoring their patient.

Shiro lays in the middle of the room, unconscious. A number of his wounds are attended to, but the bandages grow a darker red the longer Keith looks at them.

“What is going on here.” Keith growls, pushing away a number of medics as he moves closer to Shiro, “This is Haggar’s pet. We are not to let him die under our watch.” He glares at the medic closest to him and points at Shiro’s bled through bandages. “I want him back in the arena soon. Make sure he heals quickly.”

It’s a partial truth. He wants Shiro to heal without too many new scars, but he doesn’t want him back in the ring. Sadly there is no life for a gladiator outside of his fights and he and Shiro both know that.

His threat seems to help and soon Shiro is getting the attention he needs again. It is also the time that Keith gets the best view of the injuries. The clearest one is without doubt the big gash that runs from his chest to his abdomen.

“He’s lucky,” one of the medics remarks when he notices Keith’s piercing gaze, “the hit was a miss, it isn’t fatal. He should be back in a few quintents if we allow the healing to be sped up.”

Keith nods, but he words are only flying past him. The hit was a miss, but Keith knows Lotor and Lotor never misses.

**...**

Lotor is sitting in the quarters near the docking bay that he claimed for himself. He doesn’t look up when Keith opens his door with a forceful slam on the control panel.

“How’s you Champion doing?” Lotor asks calmly, not looking up from the data flying across the table.

“You let him live.” Keith breathes. He doesn’t know if it’s an answer to Lotor’s question or if it’s his own statement he had to let out at the first sight of the prince.

“I won’t kill someone who is stationed here only as entertainment. I’m not that heartless.” Lotor replies, his gaze shifting to Keith before it moves back to the files again.

“Even if he is meant to be Haggar’s puppet? Her weapon?” Keith asks again, his voice louder this time.

“If he would be her weapon, he wouldn’t be stuck here. She would keep him at her side.” Lotor explains as he swipes the files away and turns towards Keith instead.

“He will return to her side when he’s been broken here.”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Lotor asks him.

Keith sighs and shakes his head. It’s a lost cause, he knows that.  So instead of trying to get Lotor’s thoughts to change, he walks closer and sits down on the other side of the table.

“Let’s make a deal.” Keith says as he leans over the table. Lotor’s eyes stare right through him, glimmering in anticipation.

“You want to make a deal with _me_?”

“I do.” Keith says. “I’ll give you another fight, better than against the Champion. I’ll let you fight me, that’s what you want, don’t you?”

“And what do you want in return for that?”

“If I win, you’ll leave Veatis and the Champion alone and let me go without coming after me. If I lose, both the Champion and I belong to you.”

“That sounds like a deal I can’t pass up on. Though if I don’t accept, you won’t stop me from being here with you.”

“I will let Haggar know you’re damaging her weapon.”

“That is pretty mean of you.”

“I was never a kind person.”

“That is why I like you.”

“Does that mean you accept it?”

“Of course.” Lotor smirks. Immediately Keith feels a shiver running across his spine. It is a victory for sure, but it almost doesn’t feel like it. He knows Lotor too well to see an accepted challenge as a victory, it is only the beginning to a defeat.

Perhaps it’s because of that realization that he forgets to talk any further. Yet Lotor only looks at him, knowing that eventually Keith can’t stay silent anymore.

“Thank you.” Is the final reply. Keith doesn’t take the effort to explain what it is exactly he’s thankful for. He guesses he’s thankful for being able to give Shiro a chance. His own position in it seems to matter no more.

“The pleasure is mine.” Lotor smiles. “I can’t wait to see how much you’ve improved.”

Keith doesn’t answer him any more. Even if he wants to, he can’t find the words. He’s terrified, scared of the things Lotor has learned for sure and everything he forgot in the same amount of time.

**…**

One thing that actually eases his mind is the fact that the medics were right about Shiro’s recovery. By the time he’s let out of the med bay, and is placed back entirely in Keith’s care, he’s looking a lot better.

The floor won’t do his injuries any good, but seeing Shiro sit on his usual spot in the corner is calming. The bandages are no longer stained with fresh blood, the scent of dried blood mixing together with the usual stench of the room. Keith sniffs for a moment to let the full smell filter through his nose. He hates having to smell Shiro’s blood, but he has to admit it is one of most calming things he has around the base. The dried blood along with the man in the corner is a sign that he’s still alive, continuing to fight for another quintent.

“How are you feeling?” Keith asks, he places the food he brought on the ground and sits down in front of Shiro.

“I’m no longer dying, so I guess I’m fine.” Shiro shrugs, a motion followed by a painful hiss.

“I should have warned you better about his observation skills. It didn’t have to be like this.”

“Don’t apologize.” Shiro says, “You warned me all you could. I didn’t stand much of a chance against him.”

“Still, I know Lotor better than anyone here. I could have been a better help to you.” Keith sighs. He lowers his head and shakes it softly. When he looks back up at Shiro, he can see the clear frown across the man’s face, demanding answers.

“What is going on with you two to begin with? What are you to each other?”

“Lotor and I, we-“

“And don’t tell me you’re siblings. Even if you both have that white hair going on, no one talks to their brother like that.”

“Siblings? No we-” Keith stops his sentence halfway and shakes his head. “We were together for a while.”

“’Together’ together or just together?” Shiro asks as a frown forms on his face. “You have explaining to do here, Keith.”

Keith sighs, his claws digging in his arms as he tries to find comfort in his own hold. “It’s a long story.”

“And I have all day considering I almost died out there.”

“When I told you about Haggar, I told you I was stationed at Central Command, right?” Keith starts, getting a nod in return. “Halfbreeds aren’t seen highly in the empire, especially not when they try to climb in the ranks. I had heard the stories, but I was stubborn and wanted to be of help. I got bullied, thrown around and wasn’t able to do my job properly. No one would care about me, but they would surely find a reason to make it seem like I was ruining everything. Then Lotor was there. He wanted me to work on his ship, though he may have had a deeper intention back then already.”

Keith fumbles with his fingers and waits for Shiro’s first judgement.

“Were you dating?” Shiro asks. It’s a single question, but the earnest in the man’s voice shows its seriousness.

“I guess we were.” Keith admits. “I was on his ship, I became a general. We had a great time. Me, Lotor and his four other generals, all halfbreeds going against Central Command. I don’t know how many rumors find their way to the prisoner blocks, but the jobs I did got me a nickname of my own.”

“That white ghost thing?” Shiro asks, thinking back to the first, unfortunate meeting he had with the prince.

Keith nods. “They’ll give you nicknames after getting enough jobs done. People like Janka, Ranveig and Gnov get known by the same rumors. I got some shadow jobs done for Lotor and suddenly the entire empire knows me as a ghost.” Keith sighs softly. “Guess nothing else is to be expected with a name like mine.”

“So why did you leave?” Shiro tries to change the subject.

“Haggar.” Keith sighs again, “She contacted me with the question who I was loyal to: Zarkon or Lotor. I was stupid and told her it was Zarkon. In reality it was neither, but I thought the connections to Central Command were too valuable to throw away.”

“She played you right into her hands, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, but when doesn’t she? She asked me to give her information about Lotor’s actions and I did. I told her where Lotor was, what he was planning and I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“And you weren’t.”

Keith nods. “He found out eventually. Maybe he always knew and didn’t tell me until I messed up in front of him. He was angry, I was afraid he was going to kill me. He probably was going to if I didn’t run away. I ran back to Haggar like a scared animal, wishing for her protection. She gave it to me, let me run away from Central Command even. Then I came here, right back into her hands.”

“It seems like you can never escape her. I mean look at us,” Shiro laughs, another action Keith is sure only hurts. “we’re stationed at the edge of the stupid empire and we’re still having our lives controlled by her.”

“She holds more power than you might originally think. She’s terrifying.”

“Believe me,” Shiro points at his prosthetic, which has been deactivated back in the med bay again, “I’ve learned to fear her.”

“We’re unlucky enough to be part of her bigger plan. The closer you get to her, the more there is to be afriad of.” Keith sighs and pushes the bowl of goo closer to Shiro. “You should eat, try to get your body to heal.”

“When is the next fight?” Shiro asks. Keith and feels the hesitation coming from him, the fear that the next time he’ll stand in the ring with his injuries badly healed, he won’t be back to see Keith again.

“Tomorrow, but don’t worry,” Keith forces a smile on his face. “You don’t have to go into the ring next time.”

“What did you do?” It is an accusation, but it’s in its place. Fights don’t get rescheduled or canceled. A wounded champion will only bring more fun.

“It’s…” He lowers his head and fumbles with his fingers, “I’m taking your spot. Lotor and I, we’re going to fight some things out.”

“Keith,” There is more than accusation in Shiro’s voice now, he’s disappointed, worried and whatever more Keith tries to find in it, “don’t be reckless. You know what he’s capable of.”

Keith forces a reassuring smile, which, he realizes, isn't as convincing he wants it to. “Don’t worry. I know what he’s like, I’ll be fine.”

The look on Shiro’s face tells him he doesn’t believe it. Which, in some way, is Shiro’s own problem. It isn’t as if Keith _wants_ to fight Lotor. If anything, he is aware of the risks it takes. But he keeps it to himself, because weakness is an infection, and Keith doesn’t want to spread it to Shiro.

“Trust me,” He says and this time, he means it, “we will see each other again when this is all over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still really want to write Lotor and Keith's time together when everything was fine. One day, when I don't have 5 other projects going on


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Keitor fight!

It is the first time he is in the position of those whose sentence he signed in the dark hallways. The bodysuit sticks to his skin, the lighter material feeling like a blessing compared to the solid armor of the previous feebs. His blade is tucked away at the back, a different Galra sword in his hand as his primary weapon, unmaterialized in the hope to have some chance at a surprise. Though he doubts that holds any surprise at all. He never used anything but a sword or knife, and against Lotor, he doesn’t plan on changing tactics all of a sudden. Even with a gun, they’re all too used to that. Lotor picked his generals right. Sword, gun, muscle, brainwashing, invisibility… They all know what to expect from each other, how to go against their own and different skills. 

He has to wait until it’s his time to show up, which despite his expectations takes quite a while. He wonders if this is how Shiro felt every time he went into a fight, imprisoned within a set of dark walls, no escape behind him, only pain and death waiting in the front.

He shakes his head. No, if anything it will only be pain waiting for him. Bruises, cuts, perhaps a few broken ribs, but he won’t die. Not because Lotor wouldn’t dare to, oh no Keith is sure the prince would love to see a traitor’s light go out, but Keith will come out victorious. Lotor will continue to breathe the same air as him, but the air of freedom will belong to only one. Or two if he manages to take Shiro with him.

Finally there’s a poke of sentry gun in his back and it takes a strong glare to remind the robot that he isn’t a prisoner, but a high ranked soldier. The gun moves away, but the message is clear: ‘go out and fight like the lower life form you are’.

When he steps into the ring, there isn’t any cheering of his name. Eyes are following him as the echoes of his announcement flow through the ring.

> _[_ _The Challenger: the Empire’s White Ghost.]_

Keith winces at the title, but doesn’t have the time to be too bothered by it. Lotor stands on the other side of the ring, smiling at the fact that he’s finally done waiting. It doesn’t matter that the entire base knows who he is now, if everything goes well, he and Shiro will be gone before any questions can be asked. He’s a ghost, he disappears into the shadows all the time. This is nothing new.

Neither is the sight of Lotor on the other side of the ring new. Seeing the prince ready for battle with his own eyes, it’s almost nostalgic, a reminder of the good times decafeebs ago. Yet the setting is different. He doesn’t like being watched by the hundreds, thousands of eyes above, doesn’t like the closed arena that isn’t part of Lotor’s training room.

“You seem distracted.” Lotor says as he walks closer. His sword is already materialized in his hand, the cheers coming from the stand indicating the official start of the fight. “Don’t let your mind distract yourself.”

“The only one distracting me is you, but not for long.” Keith grins and materializes his own sword.

He is the first one to jump forward, but the first move means nothing against Lotor. His feet land in the sand where the prince was standing a tick ago, only shortly touching the ground before having to jump away from blow of the sword.

Dust flies around him, but Lotor doesn’t move. He never makes a first move if it isn’t in his own interest. He watches movements, returns them with more power, and only attacks when there’s an opening. Keith knows better than to leave an opening. He has learned to wait for an opportunity, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s impatient. Lotor’s fighting is a dance, Keith’s is a coordinated sets of jumps. Perhaps to the watching eye, they form on bigger dance, a spectacle to look at.

It’s so familiar that Keith almost sees himself step back on board Lotor’s ship to fight like this more often. Minus the growing injuries and pain. Not that it’s anything new, he’s gotten used to that the day he went through his trials. The scar of the day still marks his shoulder. The missions themselves never went without trouble either, even before the bigger mission to Central Command. But that was before Lotor. With Lotor, he hadn’t felt pain for a long time. There was a protection from all sides, and at most times the only danger would be a quintessence explosion. Thinking back, that surely was a lot of danger on its own.

But he isn’t at Lotor’s side, and if he’s stepping in any ship afterwards, it’s the one he hid in the woods almost a feeb ago. He has his mind focused on other things now. Keep his emotions out of the mission, like Kolivan wants.

“I really missed this, you know?” Lotor smiles. He doesn’t look out of breath, or tired from the battle at all.

“You couldn’t find a different sparring partner while I was gone?” Keith asks as a smirk runs across his face. A part of him is enjoying itself a bit too much. He knows he’d be lying if he didn’t miss it as well. Not the fighting and the spilling blood, but the opportunity to continue growing on his own. The sword feels heavy in his hand, too long and slow to follow his own movements. It’s a style Lotor is used to, but in the same way, Keith is aware of exactly what Lotor is planning.  They’re playing a game to see who messes up first. To  his own disappointment, it’s Keith.

Lotor’s blade is merciless as it slides down his shoulder, tracing over old scars, marking them anew. Despite the blood, it’s not worrying to Keith. It’s a pain he’s been taught to bite through.

“Nothing can compare to this energy.” It is a returning smile, but it’s too happy, too satisfied in Keith’s eyes. Something is wrong in it. It isn’t that Lotor is enjoying himself too much, there hasn’t been a moment that a good sparring session didn’t get them both worked up, but this _isn’t_ a sparring session. It’s an official gladiator match with much more on the line than _“who has to tell Zethrid that we’re not blowing anything up this quintent”._   They’re fighting for lives, their own lives and freedom and yet it seems only another sparring session, but now with an audience of thousands of soldiers.

And it does look normal until Lotor’s stance starts to fall apart. There are openings where they shouldn’t be, hits land too easily. The lack of energy from Lotor comes too soon. They have been at it longer before, fighting for vargas before Keith would be the one to back out. It would never be Lotor to leave openings and just give up. And yet Keith is witnessing it with his own eyes. Maybe to those that don’t know Lotor that well, or those that have never seen him fight from this close up and lived, can see the toying that’s happening in front of them.  But Lotor definitely is giving up. Within a few dobashes it isn’t just the playing that make him slow, the hits are taking their toll in the end, and Keith only has to wait for the moment where Lotor’s legs will give out and he can claim his victory. Perhaps that makes it a trap, fill his head with the idea of victory only to take it all away again. It wouldn’t be the first time to happen, wouldn’t be the last either.

The idea of a twist doesn’t leave his mind, not even when Lotor finally goes to the ground. Because even that fall doesn’t feel natural. He could get up any second, slash at Keith’s ankles and claim a quick and easy victory.

“You should stop playing games.” Keith says as he points his sword to Lotor.

“Games?” Lotor asks. He looks exhausted, but Lotor is a good actor. But he doesn’t make an attempt to attack, taking his loss all too eagerly.

“This fight is over.” Keith declares as he watches Lotor struggle to get back up again. “Just let us go.”

There is a smile on Lotor’s face that can only be distrusted. “Us?” There is a soft laughter interchanged by coughs and groans of pain. “We were only fighting about _you_. Don’t worry though, I am a man of my word. By the time I have my wounds taken care of, you’ll be far out Veatis’ system and I won’t come after you.”

“What about Shiro?” Keith asks as he feels the fur on his back stand up. He reacted to quick on Lotor’s proposal, ran into the same flattery of words as he had done so many times before.

“The Champion will remain here until that witch comes to take care of him. You don’t want to tell me you feel bad about that, do you?” There is that grin, that cursed grin Keith wants to hate. “If you don’t want her to find out about you either, you better leave now. Like you said, this fight is over.”

Lotor doesn’t face the cheering crowd, doesn’t hold any big speeches or anything to save his name. There is a single wave with his hand before he leaves the stage, leaving Keith in the middle of the screams. The sword hits the sand as realization starts to wash over him. He has won. He’s free without the biggest consequences. Consequences, he realizes, Shiro will have to face in his place. They’re things Kolivan won’t want to hear about, things only Ulaz might want to know about.

He shakes his head as he tries to mute the chanting of his name. He doesn’t greet the crowd, only gives them one glare before he too leaves the stage. His body aches from Lotor’s hits and he’s sure his wounds are still bleeding. He doesn’t care.

He passes the cell blocks, ignoring the looks given to him. He wants to visit Shiro, but his time is too limited to come up with the right excuses as to why he’s leaving and Lotor has given him a clear deadline to disappear.

The streets of the base are as lively as ever. No Unulu or Galra asks him if he’s okay. Those who watched the fight know what is going on, those who didn’t, know better than to ask questions. He finds himself in the forest again, walking past trees he vaguely recognizes. His ship is still there, slightly overgrown during the movements he was gone, but still working the same. The screens welcome him as if he never left. The engines stutter a soft second as the grass is burned off, but the moment the ship no longer touches the ground and has left the atmosphere, a moment of relief falls over him. There is a glimmer of Lotor’s ship on the other side of the planet, but the moment hyper speed has taken his ship away, there is nothing to worry about. Nothing, except Kolivan.

Keith takes a deep breath as he boots up the communication system of the ship. There are a few unread messages that didn’t pass onto his private transponder. They’re mostly small pieces of information that he can’t do anything with, coordinates to places he has no time to visit.

> [ _†19-3 ¤278 ID-Keith || The mission has been compromised. I was forced to leave the planet without obtaining any further information. I’m ready to come back to home base now._ ]

He waits as his ships drifts through space, for once with a destination in mind. The time he spends waiting, he takes care of his wounds. Lotor’s cuts are mostly superficial, the bruises a thing that will heal over time.

> [ _†19-18 ¤412 ID-Kolivan || Head to Thaldycon instead. We’ll get into further detail there. Right now it’s too dangerous to have you back on home base._ ]

‘I can’t have you back home’. It is what Kolivan truly tries to tell him. Keith wants to say he feels hurt, but he can’t. He has accepted that much. He sighs as he types in the coordinates to Thaldycon into his navigation. It isn’t home, but home no longer exists in space. But it is a destination and that is enough for Keith to work with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, Keith leaves Veatis, bye Keith~


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Shiro's POV

Being captured during a scientific mission isn’t a listed in the potential risks of a rocket launch. Debris, radiation, leaking fuel? All there. Meeting aliens who take you several light years away and throw you into a gladiator ring? Far from on it. Yet it was the situation he had found himself in immediately after the relief of a save landing had passed. It was fine at first, for as far as it could be called “fine”. He was alive, Matt was alive, Samuel was alive, they were all alive even if they weren’t in the ideal position. They had completed their mission at least, they had found traces of extraterrestrial life on Kerberos, although it may have been in the orbit above.

In the end, no good situation ever comes from being kidnapped, not on earth, not light years away from it. Slowly everyone disappears, leaving Shiro alone in a personal hell. It starts when Samuel is taken from the group to be sent to a work camp. Then when the arena fights begin, Matt leaves as well. Shiro knows he’s the only one to be blamed for that. Matt would leave him no matter what, but now he left with a chance of living a little while longer.

Life is a game of losing and gaining. Shiro loses his friends, his life, his arm... in the end he even loses his one certain spot in the arena when he’s brought to who knows where in the universe. What he gains are things he wishes he could return. He doesn’t want Haggar’s yellow eyes burned in his brain, the scars across his body, the piece of metal hanging at his side or the title of the empire’s best killer.

There is one thing he gains that he doesn’t want to lose. It comes to him in white, hidden underneath a gray armor. A part of Shiro wants it to be another soldier, someone who doesn’t care about him and who _he_ in return will not spend any energy on. Yet he is mistaken. The guard cares, comes back more often and in the end helps him find his place on the base. Despite never seeing sunshine, he known that he isn’t on a ship anymore. Whether that is an improvement or not, he doesn’t know.

The trust Shiro finds himself placing in the guard, Keith, is weak. It seems all Galra are the same, throwing him away like his worth nothing. He tells himself not to trust again, but the sight of another human is enough to have him take back his words. Something already told him Keith wasn’t fully Galra, but hearing it makes a difference. He’s human, a lost boy in a war he shouldn’t be in.  Keith brings promises like all the others do, empty promises to give him hope for another day. It works. Every day Shiro gets to see Keith’s face and hear his voice gives him more hope for a better time. And suddenly those “empty” promises start to become anything but empty, and with that a lot more dangerous.

Keith told him he was going to win the fight. When the cell door opens the next day however, Shiro is met with the sight of a different soldier. A girl, taller than Keith but just as shabby in appearance. Shiro doesn’t trust her, he can’t trust anyone at the ship. Perhaps it was even a mistake to trust Keith. The new soldier announces herself as his new caretaker, but seems to carry the title with more pride than her predecessor ever did. 

When Shiro asks her where Keith went, she only grins. That grin means everything in the arena. It’s a grin of victory, a grin of having removed your opponents from the goal you want to achieve. It is a reality he doesn’t want to accept. A part of him wishes for Keith to show up the next day, but by the time Haggar stands in front of him again, he has to accept the truth. Keith is dead and no one is going to come to save him anymore. 

He finds himself standing in front of the edge, ready to jump into oblivion and have the last bits of his human self fade away. It’s what Haggar wants, it’s what will turn into what he has been fighting for so long, but he doesn’t care anymore. There are rumors of him being transferred again soon, looks with even deeper hatred towards him than before. He’s ruining their play time, he knows, but he doesn’t care. No matter where he’s held prisoner, he won’t see Earth again. Giving up is the best way to go. Best he’ll die within the arena, a cruel death but still holding the honor of being the Champion, someone who fought to keep their humanity is some way. The worst case would have Haggar making him her soldier, when he turns on his own people and doesn’t care about hurting the innocent outside the prisons anymore. He doesn’t see an escape anymore until it blows up the outer wall of his cell.

Rescue comes to him in white. In the blast of an explosion, Shiro thinks he’s still dreaming. Through the smoke he can see a clear figure. The first he sees is a dark purple, a light shining through the thick air. When the smoke clears up, there is a familiar sight. He can see the last parts of what seems to have been a mask, disappear into thin air. A white braid greets him, accompanied by peering yellow eyes. Despite the new set of armor, tight against skin,he looks less intimidating than a soldier’s full armor.

“I thought you were dead.” Is the first thing Shiro can get to leave his mouth. For a moment he wonders if _he_ is the one who died to gain such a sight again. Maybe it’s a side effect of being so close to breaking, a last resort to get him back in reality. It is a damn good try if Shiro has to admit. To give him back what he has missed the most. To return Keith to him.

“They don’t call me a ghost for no reason.” There is that reassuring smile again, the invitation to a warmth Shiro believed was lost until now.

“Good to see you agree that you’re not real.” Shiro laughs. After all, this is too good to be true.

Keith frowns and crouches down next to Shiro. Shiro can feel the soft fur stroking his own skin. It’s tickling, but it’s there, that tender feeling of home. It’s real, so real.

“Am I fake to you, Shiro?”

“No,” Shiro whispers as he touches Keith cheek. That feeling is one no druid could ever recreate, “no you’re absolutely real. Too real.” He breathes, before he realizes something, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You’re wrong there, I absolutely need to be here. Not just to save _you_ , but to save whatever chance we have to end this war.”

“What do you mean?” Shiro asks as he watches Keith fumble with the clamp around his arm.

“I got word from Ulaz. He’s coming to this system on Sendak’s ship. Whatever they’re planning to do, I’m sure Haggar is done waiting for you to come to her.”

“And what use do you still have with me?”

“There has been word of a part of Voltron being located on Earth. Ulaz and I decided to take the bet and send you to back to retrieve it before the Galra will take the necessary actions.”

Shiro shakes his head. “They will come to Earth… for what? What is this Voltron?”

“From what I heard, it’s an old legend that the Galra have been trying to hide. It might be the only thing that can stop this war. If they have a feeling it’s located on Earth, it won’t be long until they invade.”

“And you think I’m capable of taking it out on my own?”

Keith shakes his head. “You can warn your people. You know about us, and your own people might trust you.”

“And leave you behind in the middle of all this?” Shiro protests, “You should go to Earth with me. You are human as well. If anything, they will have to listen to you.”

“Shiro,” Keith’s voice cracks, his eyes soften up and Shiro feels that the answer pains both them in the same way, “as much as I would like to join you, my place is here. ”

He takes out a cylinder from his suit and place it against Shiro’s prosthetic. There is a short purple screen before the thing dies out again.

“I am stationed at the Thaldycon system for now. If you ever find yourself in space again, you can use the coordinates in your arm to get to me. The Blade of Marmora will always be with you and we can use a leader like you on our side. But you have to go _now_ or this will have been for nothing.”

The moment almost makes Shiro forget what is going on. There is a hole next to the prison door, metal that couldn’t be saved by a force field. From behind it, footsteps can already be heard.

“So much for a stealth mission.” Keith sighs as he takes Shiro’s prosthetic and removes the clamp on it. What is seen as ‘stealth’ in Keith’s dictionary, Shiro doesn’t know.

“How do we leave the planet?” Shiro asks.

“Not ‘we’, _‘you_ ’.” Keith corrects him. “There is a number of emergency shuttles stationed at the docking bay. The soldiers will shut off this base the moment they realize what is going on, but we should be able to get you off before backup arrives. We need to hurry.”

There is no time for asking questions. For the first time, Shiro runs through the halls away from the arena. Some corners lurk in the back of his mind, memories of torture waiting for him. Sentries that block their way are taken out before they take a position to attack. Electricity surrounds the metal of Keith’s sword, leaving a purple trail behind them. The groups coming from behind are a bigger problem, but the many corners in the building make it impossible to make a hit.

That changes once there is a view of the outside. The light is blinding to Shiro’s eyes. He has no idea how long it has been since he felt rays of sunshine on his skin, the rays warming his otherwise freezing frame. It has been too long since he felt like this, longer than he can remember. The last time was still on Earth, before the only sunshine his body would get was the sight of the giant ball of fire fading in the distance. After that it’s only dark walls with green and purple lighting. Shiro doesn’t want to see the damage it has done to his body, though the lack of melanin is the least damaging to him. He doesn’t need a mirror to know that underneath his clothes, he’s covered in scars. His missing arm is enough proof of that.

In the open space of the planet, the two of them have the advantage. As long as they avoid the stands where they can’t move around enough, there is no Galra that can stop them. They run, evading the shooting from soldiers and sentries behind them. The alarms haven’t reached the docking bay yet when the building is fully in sight. But the sound of shooting is enough of an alarm to anyone and before he they realize it,  the firing comes from both sides.

So they run faster, heading to the stationed jets at the end of the hangar. The blade is useless, good for nearby sentries and soldiers, but unable to take out anyone chasing them without being lost forever.

When the door to the hangars shuts behind them, Keith destroys the panel, knowing it will buy them the few ticks they’ll need to escape.

He helps Shiro into the nearest ship, enters the coordinates and starting sequences, all set for the long flight without needing much of Shiro’s input.

“You _have_ to go now.” Keith yells as he stand in the opening of the cockpit. “Everything is set on the coordinates of Earth, but if we wait any longer, you’re not going to get away fast enough. They will shoot you down before I can give any support.”

“I don’t want to leave you here.”

“Shiro please,” Keith begs him, his ears lowering a small bit, eyes narrowing in an attempt to create a sense of empathy, “don’t worry about me. I will be fine, I’ve always been, but you are much more needed in this war.” He looks at the sword in his hand, before he lets it turn back to a knife again. With a smile he holds the weapon out to Shiro.

“I’m not going to need this at Thaldycon, so when you find Voltron and come back to space, meet me there and return it to me.” There is no ‘if’ it’s ‘when’ and despite being broken by space over and over again, it is a reassurance Shiro didn’t need he needed. He can’t protest in the first place as the door closes and the engines start to boost up. There is only Keith’s smile in the distance a muttering of words he can’t read from the guy’s lips before he’s running away into the surrounding woods. By the time the ship has left the planet’s orbit, there is nothing Shiro can do but wait. The knife lays in his hands the entire time, and by the time he’s past Kerberos, the place where everything started, he has the knife tucked away in a cut of his bodysuit.

**…**

By the time Ulaz arrives at Veatis, the base is a mess, with no trace of the Champion or Keith to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith probably knew Ulaz was going to free Shiro if he ended up on his ship... but why remove two Blades from the Galra rank when it can be just one?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tonight's chapter gets a shoutout to my lovely coworker for helping me out on a chaotic shift. I would still be in the store if it weren't for her
> 
> Also, another Shiro POV

Humans are stubborn. Whether it is to achieve their goals, survive or simply deny something is happening, they go on until they’re dead. It is because of that, that it shouldn’t come to a surprise that the moment Shiro brings evidence of extraterrestrial life, no one believes him.

He crashes in the desert, between canyons that carry memories he didn’t think he could relive again. The Garrison is located somewhere behind those canyons and it doesn’t come as a surprise when the first thing he sees coming towards him, is a Garrison car. He knows his own story, he knows what it is that he should do. ‘ _Aliens are coming, they’re trying to find a weapon, something called Voltron, we need to find it before they do_.’ It’s as simple as that, a clear and short warning. He has enough to validate his words, evidence literally clinging onto him.

The moment he steps out of his ship, the thing barely functioning from the rough landing onto the sand, he finds himself surrounded. It is there that he makes the first mistake a fighter can make: he lets his guard down. His mind tells him that he can trust faces of those he used to call his colleagues. He is pinned down before he knows it, knocked unconscious before the first word of his recited warning leaves him.

The rest of it happens in a blur. When he opens his eyes again, he’s bound to a table, surrounded by white walls. For a second he fears he’s back with the Galra again, but the masks on his captors’ faces don’t look like the skulls of a druid. The voices are distorted and the recognition is taking longer than Shiro wants it to be. He’s on Earth, taken by the Garrison for tests he doesn’t want to happen. He wants to struggle against his bindings, while he remember what he came back for. His warnings fall the deaf ears though. They are too interested in his arm, his missing arm. He has only been taught to fight and the screams of wishing to survive are too deafening.

He doesn’t want to be put under, doesn’t want to be powerless once again, doesn’t want to lose what’s important to him. He can’t be bothered with the arm, the fate of his planet is on the line and along with that the metal of a knife pressing against his skin. The knife the best proof he has, besides his arm, that the invasion is right at the door. But despite its value, it’s the one thing Shiro doesn’t want them to find. If he loses that out of all things, there almost doesn’t seem to be a reason to save the planet anymore.

In the end he can’t fight back. He feels his body go against him, falling into an abyss he can’t climb out. It’s the druid’s experiments all over again, where he wakes up lacking even more humanity than the last time he closed his eyes.

**…**

Surprisingly enough, he wakes up in a better shape. Things are a blur, but they aren’t necessarily bad. He is surrounded by three teenagers, his rescuers as they introduce themselves to him. He was assumed dead for a year, a hero turned one with the stars. Though even if he isn’t one with the stars anymore, he’s still dead to the world. Unless the Garrison changed its methods of burying things in the sand after each mistake.

He isn’t at the Garrison anymore however. The shack in the desert belongs to someone no one has ever known. Shiro doesn’t want to intrude in a stranger’s space, but something screams at him to figure out what to do. He can’t provide himself with any answers though. It almost feels like the knife belongs there, like it’s the home it was searching for, a home it didn’t have with the Galra.

There is something in the cliffs that calls out to him, which he soon enough finds out is a giant blue lion hidden underneath the rocks. Before he knows it, he’s one with the stars again. This time, however, he feels more alive than ever. It isn’t just Voltron that wants him to be there. The knife, despite having being reunited with the ground it longed to, has found a different destination again. There are Galra waiting out there to be defeated and to be helped.

…

The Galra can’t be trusted. That much becomes clear the moment Shiro meets Allura. A single memory that had found itself stuck in Shiro’s mind only counts as a trap. The Galra are clever, clever enough to manipulate the memories of those who have lived among them. A part of Shiro wishes that he could have stayed on Earth when he came back, but the voice in the back of his mind tells him not to.

Now he finds himself standing in front of a closed a door. He is the black paladin, or at least he’s supposed to be. The black lion won’t show herself with one of her companions still missing. The red lion is in the castle, that much is true. The difficulty of getting the beast from its Galra prison was much more than Shiro had wished for and that was only the start of the war. It was only the first mission together, but the team misses a certain dynamic no matter what. They miss their fifth paladin, their last key towards the upcoming victory. Without her paladin, the red lion is as good as worthless. Not even her sensors show who qualifies as her pilot. They are left in a mystery that can’t solve itself.

It is at times like that that Shiro thinks back to the past. He never shows the knife to Allura, knowing her reaction might be worse than he wants it to be. But there are allies out there, allies that can help them while they are unable to do anything, and _he_ is the one who can connect them. In the end, there is nothing wrong in trying to find a friend in the middle of war.

He doesn’t tell the others that it was a Galra that freed him, only that he was saved from the arena. Even that bring suspicion. The biggest question is if he can trust his own memories after everything that happened with all the holes that have been made in his mind. He can’t give them an answer. Maybe it was all a lie, maybe he wasn’t saved at all. Maybe it was meant to break him again, just like _she_ wanted.

They find coordinates his arm, numbers that repeat through the Galra code that operates his arm. They point them towards the Thaldycon system, where Shiro can feel himself being called to. The place is disappointing however. There is a wall of crystals they can’t cross. One wrong move and the castle blows up with them inside of it.

“There can’t be nothing, we came all the way out here.” He says, mostly to himself in an attempt to prove the Galra didn’t scramble his brain entirely. “We should wait, there must be something.”

He doesn’t care about the protests and pitying looks in his direction. There has to be something waiting for him. The knife pushed him into this direction for a good reason, and he wants nothing but to be reunited with it. Thus he waits or something to happen. Anything.

When something does happen, it isn’t what he expects it to be. An alarm blares through the castle, while an Altean text corresponding to ‘intruder alert’ covers all the screens. It’s a sign for the judging looks to return once more. There isn’t much time for judgement, however. Any threat is threat too much, even if the cameras only show a single person run through the hallways.

Something in the feed feels familiar to him, though he is unsure what it is. The figure moves too fast and the castle is in too much of a panic to take their time to inspect the intruder thoroughly.

**…**

Being the leader, Shiro wants to be the first one to face the enemy. Yet with the way things go and the way he has found his team to be disorganized, he has to make do with the feed across the speakers.

< _Careful, he’s faster than an angry klanmüirl_ >

< _Somebody’s as mad as a wet chüper_ >

< _Coming your way number four!_ >

< _He’s dragging Pidge away_ >

< _Oh, Hunk failed the team guys_ >

And with that his whole team is down and he’s the last one standing. He’s prepared, at least he hopes he is. He hasn’t faced enough in space yet, not what he can remember clearly. His arm grows restless as he can feel the shadows creeping on him. Soft feet run through the halls, making almost no sound as they draw close. Shiro finds his ears used to the sound and is prepared when the dark purple figure turns around the corner. A pair of purple glowing eyes stare at him before they dart towards him.

It’s a flash of purple. The energy dripping of Shiro’s arm, connecting with the cold metal of a sword. The universe seems to stand still for a second. The tension is  horrible, but before Shiro can attack any further, the distance between seems to grow again. The blade lowers enough for Shiro to see a familiar emblem above the hilt.

“Shiro.” The mask fall down and Shiro feels his heart miss a beat. There is a purple that he thought would only meet him in his dreams. Hopeful yellow eyes run over him in an attempt to take in reality. Shiro is sure his eyes are doing the same thing. He’s there, he’s real.

“Keith.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back to Keith's POV :D

Thaldycon is as boring as a base can get. He listens in on radio chatter, decodes passing messages and watches the stars that are located outside the Xanthorium clusters. For the first time in ages the stars hold nostalgia, an invitation to come back to their warm embrace. X-9-Y is far away from the Thaldycon system and even with the fastest ship, the trip would take too long to be undertaken by him alone. As such, he is stuck at the outpost, listening and living through the quintents as they pass by. Maybe it’s a punishment, maybe it’s salvation. Either way, Keith accepts that Thaldycon is where he is supposed to be, that it is where Kolivan wants him to be. He has resisted Kolivan’s orders for too long and he’s right in the hole he has dug for himself. A beautiful hole if he has to say so, fit for a traitor, betrayer, a runaway. The crystals behind him are a border he isn’t allowed to pass and the gravity generator sets up a prison he isn’t allowed to escape for his own safety. 

He knows he’s supposed to be glad to still be a Blade. His knife is somewhere on Earth, a place Keith decides it’s meant to be. Surely Kolivan was disappointed in Keith losing the thing, an excuse of ‘I lost it’ not being accepted. He wasn’t supposed to be at Veatis that time, wasn’t supposed to find the one person who was worth the risk of being found out. But it had kept Ulaz in function. A precious ally causes smart individuals to make rushed decisions, but Keith has taught himself to keep Ulaz and Thace as examples for perfect Blades. A decision made by either of them can’t be bad on its own then, right? Except that they continue to be Blades, living in secrecy for the sake of the bigger mission. And in that regard, Keith is too reckless for Kolivan’s liking. The communications base is the only place he can stay at, the only place where it’s impossible to be reckless. There is only radio chatter to listen to, nothing to do, nothing to destroy.

There is no feeling of time, nothing that connects him to the outside except for Galra chatter. The battleships are filled with the same  gossip, but it’s static, too formal for Keith’s liking. A part of him misses Veatis, the lose structure of a base without rules. Veatis… no doubt the base has been destroyed already. Shiro is out of Galra hands, at least that is what Keith tells himself. It is only the feeling that he’s out there, that keeps Keith going. Time is meaningless in Space, especially in a war that has been going on for thousands of years.

_Every quintent is the same._

_Over and over again._

_Waiting for something_

_Waiting for nothing_

_Waiting_

There is an alarm. An alarm that Keith hasn’t heard since he went to Thaldycon. There is a ship surveying the area around the crystals. It’s waiting, staring right at him. His dashboard shows a white figure. White, no Galra color, but not one of the Blade either. No ship he knows is white, which means they’re no ally. They don’t move, don’t go after him. They have no idea he’s there in front of them, which is all Keith needs.

He prepares his ship and cloaks it as he moves through the space-time fold surrounding his outpost. The enemy ship is smaller than a normal Galra cruiser, but bigger than the average Blade ship. It’s blue glow makes the thing stand out more against the dark space. It doesn’t matter however what kind of ship it is he has found. The fact stays that they’re no allies to the Blade, which, if Keith remembers correctly, no one is.

Despite its pretty looks, the ship is rather primitive in form. Sneaking inside is no big deal, the airlocks not being secure enough to keep all intruders out. The design is nice, Keith has to give them that much credit. The flowing lines of white, grey and blue is of a type he hasn’t seen before. It’s more streamlined than a crashed rebel ship, more decorated than a Galra or Blade ship, but it’s also old. The technology in the halls is of a kind he hasn’t seen before, except for inside old Galra reports. It would make the thing at least thousands years old. A miracle it’s even functional.

Then suddenly, something calls to him, dragging him away from his original investigation. It’s calling to him, softly. It’s playing with him as he tries his best to give it a response. It’s the feeling of an animal calling for its pack, calling for _him_. He doesn’t feel the need to check out the ship anymore. All he wants to do is find the source of the call.

He runs through the hallways, up and down sets of stairs, ignoring the possibility that despite the ship being old, there must be cameras. He isn’t sure where he is at the ship in the end. Running past multiple large doors and empty walls. There is a different rumbling behind every door, telling him to run further, to where the sound is driving him crazy. Yet when the final door opens up, he’s met by pure silence.

Indeed it is an animal that is looking right at him. Eyes as hungry as the Champion’s, as vicious as Lotor’s, but with a glimmer of hope Keith sees reflected in Kolivan. The beast is towering over him in red, contrasting against its dark hangar. Yet its true beauty is hidden by a blue shield. It’s begging to be touched, to see if there is any way to get it to move away.

The beast is that of a dream. An animal that has been hunting him from the day he sent Shiro back to his own system. And now he’s here, right in its trap, captured by claws that can’t even reach him. The lion is Voltron, that what he has tried to go after for so long. It’s right in front of him, calling for him.

Hand meets shield, then… nothing.  The shield is still there, the animal’s eyes look down on him and Keith can only hope it’s not disappointed. Then there is a sound. An alarm. The mission has been cut short. The intelligence he was hoping to gather later on will have to be gained on the run. The beast was clearly a trap set up for him and in return he’ll test them.

He runs away, away from the beast. Though the further he goes, the more he feels its eyes staring at him. He’s being followed by its judgement. In the end the beast is the same as everyone else, trying to keep him close only to tell him he’s not worth anything.

He only remembers parts of the way he took down into the ship. With the alarms going off, his ship is probably found within a few quintents. His position isn’t save either. Anything he wants to accomplish on the ship, he’ll have to do so facing its occupants instead.

The alarms are effective and after running around a darker set of hallways, Keith can hear another set of footsteps coming after him.

“I got him.” The footsteps behind him pause, bringing an unfamiliar voice with them. Keith turns around to find himself faced by a blue and white armor and a gun pointed right at him.

“Hold it right there!” The stranger yells, but Keith won’t wait. He darts towards the man, whose falling posture shows he’s an amateur in battle. His shots are sloppy, unable to hit him as Keith jumps between the walls.

< _Careful, he’s faster than an angry_ _klanmüirl_ > Keith jumps over his attacker. There is fumbling with the gun before the shooting continues. < _Somebody’s as mad as a wet chüper_ > Someone is behind the speakers, broadcasting their exact fight. It’s almost as if he has been turned into entertainment. Like he’s back in the arena again.

< _Coming your way number four!_ > Number four… There is another one waiting for him, one out of four that come after him. As he turns the corner, he is indeed greeted by a green armor. The person inside is much smaller than the first one, but quicker and better prepared for his arrival. Something shining darts at him and purely on reflex, Keith catches it in his hand. It’s a weapon, number four’s weapon. It’s attached to the person and without thinking, Keith tugs at the weapon, runs and pulls the attacker of their feet.

< _He’s dragging Pidge away_ > He runs around a few corners with Green sliding across the floor behind him. Blue follows behind, but his shooting is unpracticed while running and he doesn’t prove to be much of a problem.  Even when he sees a piece of yellow in the corner of his eye, the blast of the cannon is too slow and almost hits Green instead.

< _Oh, Hunk failed the team guys_ > That must have been Yellow, but there is no time to think about that. Blue has taken a shortcut somehow because he’s standing right in front of him. It calls for the perfect time to let Green go on their own again. He lets the weapon go, jumps into another corner and listens how Green crashes into Blue.

Suddenly, black is in front of him. An arm, vibrating a Galra purple is pointed right at him. He knows the feeling of having it pointed at his neck. His fear is blocked out by a familiar feeling. He lowers his blade and takes a step back.

“Shiro.” He whispers and lets his mask dissolve. The man hasn’t changed. Even if the prisoner garb has been replaced by an armor, this is still the same Shiro.

“Keith?” The arm lowers and Shiro’s expression softens.

Keith wants to talk to him, tell him how much he’s missed this. But he can’t, not without being pushed into a wall with brute force. There is a hand on his chest, keeping him in place with a force Keith didn’t expect from the woman standing in front of him. Her eyes burn with hatred, hatred towards him.

“ _Who_ are you?” She yells, but Keith isn’t given any time to answer her.

“Allura, stop!” Shiro tries to reason with her. “He is the Galra who saved me. He’s the reason we came here.”

The woman, Allura, doesn’t let him go. With the rest of the people gathered right next to him, Keith finds himself hopelessly surrounded. He gives Shiro a pleading look, but it’s obvious that even the great Champion of the Galra empire can’t stop an angry woman.

**…**

In the end Keith gives up on fighting back. Despite Shiro wearing the black armor of a paladin, he is nothing against the owner of the so called “Castle”. Allura rules over the empty ship, though her true motives stay unclear to Keith. The ship is hers, Voltron is hers, and the victory over the Galra is the ultimate thing she wants to get her hands on. In that respect, they’re allies. Shiro has done exactly what Kolivan needed him for, what the Blade was willing to sacrifice so much for. There is however, a better way of dealing with things. It is that he willingly went along with them, or he would have left them to die the moment Allura brought a set of cuffs out of nowhere. The crew of the Castle has all gathered around him in a smaller room, which Keith guesses is the best excuse for an interrogation room.

“I don’t think this is necessary.” Shiro tries to reason. Of course Shiro would, they know each other. If it wasn’t Shiro who had come, the ship would be entirely abandoned in the shadow of death by now.

“I will not have some quiznak-ing Galra on the bridge of my ship!”

“I’m not here to kill you, not with Shiro being here.” Keith grunts at her.

“Is that supposed to win my trust?”

“I’m not here for your trust. I am fighting a war.” Keith replies before he decides arguing with her is a waste of his time and shifts his attention to Shiro instead. “I was afraid you wouldn’t find this place. Or that you would rather stay on Earth.”

“I told you I’d bring you back with me, didn’t I? And your knife was a good reminder of that.” Shiro smiles as he reaches to his back. Slowly, Keith sees what he had started to miss. His mother’s blade in Shiro’s hands. “I promised I’d give it back to you.”

But before Shiro can return the blade, if Keith could grab it in the first place with his hands bound, Allura cuts him off. “We are not giving the enemy a weapon on my ship.”

“He’s not an enemy.” Shiro argues.

“Looking like that, he can’t be anything else.” She doesn’t have to point at him, Keith already knows she’s talking about the purple fur covering his body, the yellow Galra eyes that try their best to adapt to the light room.

“I can bring you the only ally you have in this war, but clearly we’re not welcome to you. We have been fighting this war on our own for millennia, we can survive without your mighty robot.”

“Allura,” Shiro tries again, “we might need this ally with how we’ve been doing with Voltron lately.”

“We will have solved our own problems quicker than a Galra will turn towards peace.” She huffs and turns around.

“Because Alteans have been so great at keeping that peace.” Keith murmurs when the door closes behind her.

The room feels lighter without the princess in it. Despite being surrounded by people that most likely want to kill him, her hatred holds the most capacity.

“I’m going to check how Allura is doing.” Blue excuses himself and with a few murmurs Green joins him. Yellow is the only one truly radiating fear and Keith isn’t surprised he doesn’t wait more than a few ticks of giving Shiro a questioning look before he too leaves the room.

“Such a role reversal this is.” Keith sighs, smiling softly at the sight of his hands, cuffed in his lap. “I guess I’m not going to be allowed to walk around freely.”

“I’m sorry about Allura, it hasn’t been easy for her.”

“Neither for you, I assume. Whatever was going on back there with those other guys, they aren’t trained.”

“They’re only cadets, students, from Earth. We all just ended up in more than we could have wished for.” Shiro shakes his head and Keith can see the worry growing on his face. “Is it true what you said, that your people will help us?”

“I’m not sure Kolivan would agree on my actions, but in the end we’re all trying to end the same war. If I can get back to my base I could tell him I’ve made contact with Voltron.”

For a moment Shiro stays silent and Keith can almost hear the train of thoughts running through the man’s mind. Then there’s a sparkle in Shiro’s eyes that is all the answer Keith needs.

“How do we get to this base of yours?”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is still art that should come with this chapter, but it isn't done yet. So that will come later

The dark shades of the Blade ship are calming to his eyes, though that is also the only calming thing he’s having. Shiro watches over his shoulder as the ship disconnects of the Altean ship and is piloted towards the Xanthorium clusters. Shiro assures him the princess won’t know they’re gone until a later planned meeting, but by that time they will already be deep inside the space pocket, unable to track by the Altean technology. Though Keith will return the black paladin eventually, only for the sake of the universe.

He can feel Shiro’s hand tighten on his seat as he moves closer to the clusters, the reacting reaching its peak when the space pocket opens up for him. The fear is admiration then, a beautiful emotion to Keith. He can’t remember if he was this excited seeing the base himself. The technology is only one of many, the base only an outpost no one cares about.

“This is communication’s base Thaldycon.” Keith says when the small structure comes into view.

“How did you make it stay this hidden?” Shiro asks as he leans further over Keith’s shoulder.

“Hire a super genius to create a gravity generator strong enough to make a space fold.”

“Amazing.” Shiro whispers as their ship docks at the outpost and Keith lets him in.

**…**

There isn’t much on the base to show Shiro, so instead Keith decides to focus on the reason they escaped the Alteans to begin with.

“So what about Voltron?” Keith asks. “You found the lions, but the universe doesn’t seem to spread any news about it. At least I haven’t gotten a single message about Voltron’s full appearance yet.”

“We can’t form Voltron.” Shiro sighs, looking outside of the base, to what Keith guesses is the location of the outside docked castle. “Even if we took the red lion from Galra hands, the black lion is locked in its hangar until we find her paladin.”

“Any idea where you’ll find them?” Keith asks.

Shiro shakes his head. “I was hoping you would have an idea. You’re more acquainted with the universe than any of us.”

 _‘I could do it’_ , hangs in Keith’s mind, yet isn’t spoken aloud. The lion didn’t open up for him when he thought she called for him. Clearly he isn’t meant to be with her, or Shiro in that matter. “The other Blades might know more. Ulaz has been collecting data on Voltron for a while. He found the blue lion on Earth as well.”

He moves over to the console and finally gets the connection the home base set. His hands fly over the screens, activating video function for the first time in feebs. He prefers sending information in encryptions, not just because it feels saver, but also because he doesn’t have to look Kolivan in the eye then. In text it’s easier to ignore the disappointment his leader holds towards him.

So when the call connects and Kolivan’s face shows up across the entire panel, Keith has to take a deep breath first.

“Keith. It’s unusual for you to call. Did something happen?” Kolivan sounds serious, he always does. It almost feels as if he cares, then again, if his outpost is in any possible danger, he probably does.

“Nothing dangerous.” Keith assures him. “But I got in contact with the paladins of Voltron. They want to be our allies, and we could help them.”

He steps aside to give Shiro space to get into view.

“This is Shiro, the black paladin of Voltron.”

He can see Kolivan squint at the other side of the screen.

“The Champion you compromised our mission for.”

“He brought Voltron to us. The risk was worth it.”

“The risk could have gotten you killed.”

It is that moment that Shiro decides to step in. “If I may, sir.” He clears his throat and Keith takes another step to the side to give Shiro all the space he needs. “We could not have gotten to Voltron without Keith’s assistance. As a sign of gratitude, allow me to promise all of Voltron’s power to you.”

“We already had our own plans in motion to get to the lions. Things were only moved forward by this.” Kolivan states before he frowns again at Shiro. “However, if Voltron were truly in action, we would have known about its sightings already. Only the blue, yellow and green lion have been seen by the empire. Where is this mighty protector you promise us?”

“We need another paladin before we can form Voltron. The black lion is locked inside the Castle until we find the red paladin.”

“We hoped someone else gathered intel on the location of the last paladin.” Keith adds.

“You did not find anything on your own?” Kolivan frowns on the other side of the screen. “I thought your time with Voltron would give you some answers.”

Keith blinks and shakes his head. “I was seen as an enemy. One of the lions only lured me in as a trap.”

“The lion did what?” Keith looks aside only to see shock all over Shiro’s face.

“I doubt it was the actual lion.” Keith shrugs, “there was this rumble when I entered the ship, leading me down the hangars. I thought it was the lion, but the alarms went off the moment I touched her. She doesn’t want me.”

“Keith, do you even know what you’re saying?” Shiro asks and for a moment the video chat with Kolivan doesn’t matter anymore. “We never put traps around the lions, they already have their own, conscious protection. But back when we found the blue lion, Lance asked us if we heard her talking as well. None of us did, we can’t hear any lion that isn’t our own. We should go back to Allura with this. Maybe there’s more to this than you think.”

“Neither the lion or the princess want to have anything to do with me. I’m better with the Blade.”

“Actually,” Kolivan’s voice breaks through, “you are no longer needed at Thaldycon. Ulaz’s time within the ranks seems to be running out, he’ll take over your place. If the black paladin knows what he’s talking about, see if you can work with the red lion. If not, return back to home base, make sure you don’t get tracked.”

The connection cuts with that. Kolivan has better things to do than to listen to a discussion about whether the lions hate him or not. To Keith the answer is already clear: they do. The actual wound is Kolivan sending him away. He can’t keep his current job, and being allowed back to their home base is either a blessing or curse he doesn’t want to find out. Being sent back to Voltron is probably even worse, back to the hateful eyes of an Altean.

“Shiro,” Keith sighs, “whatever you’re thinking, it won’t work. Maybe the lion was mistaken, maybe she didn’t know who she was calling before I came. Maybe she has grown tired of waiting.”

“I disagree. The lions wouldn’t call out to you if they didn’t feel you were worthy.Give them another chance, talk to Allura. She will accept you if it means we get to fight the Galra.”

“In case you forgot, we fight the _Empire_ , Shiro.” Keith corrects him. “Not all Galra are like Zarkon. The entire Blade is made of Galra that fight to end this war. I am not the same Galra that took your arm.” ‘ _Even if that wasn’t a Galra to begin with_ ’ he decides not to add. There is no reason to rub in any more bad memories they both already know about. No need to drag on about the unimportant. “Let’s get you back to your team first, before the princess frames me for an attempted kidnapping as well.”

Shiro agrees without any protest. The flight back to the ship is painful, knowing that he won’t get back to Thaldycon no matter what.

**…**

He doesn’t want to land his ship again, terrified of the reactions to come. When they step out of the small jet, the other paladins waiting for them, the fear is the only thing running through him.

When his feet set down on the white floor, there is already the whiring of a gun. The blue paladin has his weapon out, the other three surely to follow with the first wrong move.

“Step away from him, Shiro.” Allura calls out, glaring at Keith. But Shiro doesn’t move. He stays at his side, shaking his head.

“Don’t attack. He didn’t do anything.”

“He took you and made you disappear from our radars. We can’t trust him.”

“I was the one that asked him to do so. We needed to make contact with his team. And we learned something important.” Shiro eyes at Keith, who tenses at the words. “We should go to the red lion.”

“I will not bring a Galra to my father’s lion.”

“The red lion is without a paladin and we might have found him right here.”

“I will not accept a Galra as a paladin.”

“But the lion might.”

“And they have before.” Keith interrupts them. “Or did those milenia make you forget about the black lion? Because the Galra never did.”

He watches the princess flinch under the words. So does the rest of the team, weapons lowering with a questioning look towards the Alteans.

“Allura? What is he talking about?” Blue asks, but the princess only shakes her head.

“Zarkon was the original paladin of the black lion.” Keith explains for her. The glare that follows in his direction proves he’s right there. “What makes you believe the lion wouldn’t take him back? That the war suddenly makes them forget about their bonds?”

“Shiro is already chosen as its new paladin.” Allura snaps.

“And yet the lion is locked away because you know Zarkon can take over when he’s close.” Keith raises his voice. He doesn’t care about why he’s facing the Altean to begin with, doesn’t care about the lion clearly roaring in the back of his mind again.

“Keith, everyone! Calm down.” Shiro interferes.  Keith sighs and takes a step back again, the princess unclenches her fist but never loses eye contact with Keith. “Allura,” Shiro looks at the princess, “you knew who would pilot which lion. Can you at least see if Keith has any connection to it.”

Allura sighs and finally breaks away to look at Shiro instead. “We could just visit the lion itself and see it for ourselves. The hangars are closer than the bridge.”

Shiro nods and while his hand is held out to Keith in comfort as he leads him to the hangars, Keith feels his feet grow heavy with every step he takes.

**…**

No one talks on the short walk to the red lion’s hangar. Neither do they talk when they’re all standing in front of the lion’s shield again. Allura only has to give Keith one sharp look to make her point clear: connect with the lion.

His steps to the shield are slow and despite Shiro’s believing look, he isn’t sure it will work. His heart is already back at the Blade, getting a varga long lecture from Kolivan about all his reckless actions. He’ll probably be back on a spying mission within the next quitents of coming back home. The Blade is spreading thin after all, and those with a solid position within the empire are too valuable for tracking ship routes. That can be his job after his failures and he has already accepted it.

His hand reaches up to the shield, touching it, waiting for it to fall apart. But it doesn’t. The roaring is silent again and Keith has to do his best to keep the sob in his throat from coming out.

“It’s me.” He says, fingers curling at the shield, never piercing through. “I’m your paladin. Come on, we’re connected.”

Nothing, the lion stares at him so strongly but never lets him in.

“Why did you even call for me when you don’t want me?!” Keith yells as he pulls his hand away.

“Keith wait!” Shiro calls out ot him when he turns around to return to his ship, to finally go home.

“Let him go, Shiro.” Allura’s voice follows, apparently enough to stop Shiro’s feet from coming after him. “The lion doesn’t want a Galra.”

The doors slides shut behind him luckily, blocking out all the sound after that. No one comes after him as he steps inside his ship and flies out again.

He is no paladin, only a broken Blade. A ghost.

**…**

He stays close to the castle before he contacts Kolivan with the news. Though it isn’t much “news” at all. He already realized he wouldn’t get to the lion, and being rejected twice was more than enough to make that clear.

After a deep breath he leans back in his seat, stretches his arms and places his hands back on the controls again. It’ll be a long journey back, but seeing the others again may be the best for him. Catch up with Regris, Ilun, Vrek, Antok… prepare for the new job. He can adjust, he can go on.

He takes one last look at the castle before firing up the engine again. He won’t see the paladins again, not even Shiro unless they find another way to talk again. He won’t get to see Earth with him when they’re both split up by war. It is then that he realizes he’s been stupid, that despite the princess’ threats, he should have given them some way to contact the Blade when relationships would get better.

When the engines are all powered up and their hums have fully echoed through his body, his mind is already on the other side of the galaxy again.

Until there’s a roar and red jaws eat his ship. There’s no one aboard but once he sits down in the pilot’s seat he finally knows where he belongs.

Finally, he’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end!  
> Thank you for reading :D I still want to write more for this AU, but first I need to finish some other bangs!

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [Tumblr](https://aulra.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ahhuya)


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